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>  L)  ft  i ; 


With    Pompliments  of 


he    Publishers. 


NIGHT  THOUGHTS 


ON 


LIFE,   DEATH,   AND  IMMORTALITY, 


EDWARD  YOUNG,  LL.D. 


A  MEMOIR  OF  THE  AUTHOR,   A   CRITICAL  VIEW  OF  HIS 
WRITINGS,  AND  EXPLANATORY  NOTES. 


REV.   JAMES   R.^iOYD, 

EDITOR   OF  THE     "  PARADISE    LOST,"    "  THOMSON'S   SEASONS",   ETC. 

FOURTH  (REVISED)  EDITION. 

NEW    YORK: 
A.  S.  BARNES  &   CO.,  51    &   53   JOHN-STREET. 

C  I  N  C  I  N  X  A  T I  :  —  II.  W.    DERBY. 
185G. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  In  the  year  1851,  by 

CIIAELES    SCEIBNEE 

In  tue  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  States  for  the  Southern  BlitrJoi 

of  New  York. 


INTRODUCTORY  OBSERVATIONS. 


In  preparing  this  new  edition  of  the  "  Night  Thoughts,"  with  a 
memoir  of  the  author,  a  critical  estimate  of  his  celebrated  writings, 
and  notes  explanatory  of  the  text,  the  editor  has  been  influenced  in 
no  small  degree  by  a  desire  to  make  the  Poem  far  more  useful  than 
it  has  hitherto  been  without  notes.  It  has  by  no  means  the  erudite 
character  of  the  Paradise  Lost,  and  does  not,  on  this  account,  stand 
in  so  much  need  of  explanatory  observations ;  but  it  is  not  without 
its  many  learned  and  historical  allusions,  its  recondite  truths,  its  ob- 
scurities, intricacies,  and  difficulties,  which,  to  most  readers,  greatly 
require  elucidation. 

The  fact  that  it  is  extensively  used  in  seminaries  of  learning,  as  a 
text  book  for  grammatical  analysis  and  rhetorical  criticism,  has  also 
recommended  it  to  the  editor  as  a  peculiarly  fitting  subject  of  his 
critical  study  and  annotation.  For  this  use  it  is,  perhaps,  not  less 
valuable  than  the  Paradise  Lost,  in  expanding  the  intellect,  giving 
scope  to  the  imagination,  exuberance  to  fancy,  cultivation  to  lite- 
rary taste,  and  improvement  to  the  moral  feelings.  These  Poems 
axe  so  entirely  different  in  then  metrical  structure  and  style  of 
thought  from  the  Paradise  Lost,  except  in  the  single  attribute  of  sub- 
limity, that  a  study  of  the  one  for  educational  purposes,  or  for  higher 


4  INTRODUCTORY    OBSERVATIONS. 

ends,  does  by  no  means  supersede  the  necessity  or  advantage  of  the 
study  of  the  other  also.  In  one  particular,  it  occurs  to  us,  that  the 
"  Night  Thoughts"  has  the  preference  as  a  text  book  in  schools  :  it 
abounds  in  figures  of  speech  that  are  more  or  less  faulty;  and  it 
will  prove  a  valuable  exercise  to  discover  and  point  out  the  respects 
in  which  rhetorical  propriety  has  been  violated.  In  another  particu- 
lar it  must  be  of  eminent  service  in  a  course  of  education :  it  fur- 
nishes a  great  number  of  pithy  sentences,  easily  remembered,  and 
pregnant  with  the  most  important  meaning,  which,  if  lodged  early 
in  the  mind,  must  exert  a  salutary  influence  in  securing  a  wise  im- 
provement of  time,  a  proper  choice  of  objects  of  pursuit,  a  restraint 
upon  the  appetites  and  passions,  an  upward  direction  to  the  reason 
and  affections,  and  a  powerful  auxiliary  to  the  practice  of  the  duties 
of  religion. 

Besides  all  this,  the  earnest  effort  to  understand,  and  comprehend, 
and  criticise  a  work  so  condensed  and  profound  and  vast  in  its  con- 
ceptions, must  powerfully  serve  to  enlarge  and  invigorate  all  the 
intellectual  powers. 

It  being  the  aim  of  the  editor,  in  part,  to  embrace  in  his  plan  a 
provision  for  the  wants  of  young  persons,  to  whom  the  study  of  the 
Night  Thoughts  is  peculiarly  valuable,  he  has  explained  many 
words,  forms  of  expression,  and  allusions,  that  might  be  perfectly 
intelligible  to  others  without  explanation.  He  desired  also  to  meet 
the  necessities  of  all  whose  early  advantages  of  education  may  have 
been  limited  or  neglected,  so  that  the  Poem  might  be  read  by  all 
understandingly,  profitably,  and  thus  with  satisfaction. 

As  will  be  perceived,  he  has  contributed  much  to  the  intelligible- 
ness  of  the  poem,  and  to  an  easy  discovery  of  its  great  outlines  of 
thought,  by  designating  in  a  conspicuous  manner  the  principal  topics 
upon  which  it  treats.  This  feature  of  the  plan  has  cost  no  incon 
siderable  labour.     The  advantage  thus  afforded  to  the  reader  is  two 


INTRODUCTORY    OBSERVATIONS.  5 

fold.  It  furnishes  a  key  to  tlie  several  portions  of  the  work,  by 
which  its  treasures  are  laid  open  more  readily  to  the  mind  :  and  it 
will  be  found  very  convenient  for  reference  to  subjects,  when  a  per- 
son desires  to  employ  but  a  few  moments  at  a  time  in  its  perusal. 
The  "  Night  Thoughts,"  not  being  very  closely  connected  in  its 
component  parts,  is  particularly  susceptible  of  such  a  division  ;  and 
what  renders  such  a  division  the  more  convenient  indeed,  and  need- 
ful, is  that  the  thoughts  are  so  weighty,  so  crowded  often  into  a  very 
limited  space,  that  it  is  not  easy,  without  fatigue,  nor  perhaps  desi- 
rable, to  read  more  than  one  or  two  hundred  lines  at  a  single 
perusal. 

To  readers  of  all  classes  it  seems  a  desideratum  to  offer  such 
an  edition  of  this  admirable  poem  as  shall  be  attractive,  and  adapted 
to  bring  its  wonderful  conceptions  into  close  contact  with  the  mind 
and  heart ;  and  that  for  these,  among  other  reasons, — if  read  even 
occasionally,  with  due  attention,  and  in  the  use  of  the  explanatory 
notes,  it  will  habituate  the  mind  to  just  thoughts  of  death,  that 
grand  issue  to  which  all  are  hastening  ;  and  of  eternity,  the  interests 
of  which  it  most  concerns  all  of  us  to  provide  for  at  an  early  day. 
It  will  impressively  remind  us  of  what  we  are  all  too  apt  to  be  for- 
getful and  negligent,  that 

"  This  is  the  bud  of  being,  the  dim  dawn, 
The  twilight  of  our  day,  the  vestibule. 
Life's  theatre  as  yet  is  shut,  and  death, 
Strong  death,  alone  can  heave  the  massy  bar, 
This  gross  impediment  of  clay  remove, 
And  make  us,  embryos  of  existence,  free." 

It  will  convince  us  most  effectually,  our  judgments  at  least,  of  the 
vanity  of  this  world  and  of  its  pursuits,  when  compared  with  the 
claims  of  the  world  to  come  :  that 

u  All  all  on  earth  is  shadow,  all  beyond 


0  INTRODUCTORY    OBSERVATIONS. 

Is  substance :  the  reverse  is  Folly's  creed. 
How  solid  all  when  change  shall  be  no  more : 

It  will  thus  guard  us  against  improper  and  undue  excitement 
from  worldly  objects  and  pursuits  :  it  will  also  furnish  alleviations 
of  the  severity  of  earthly  sorrows  and  disappointments. 

It  will  admonish  us  of  the  too  common  vice  of  every  age — an 
unprofitable,  if  not  universal,  waste  of  time,  the  value  of  which  is 
nowhere  so  eloquently  portrayed  as  in  this  volume. 

"  Each  night  we  die, 
Each  morn  are  born  anew ;  each  day  a  life  ! 
And  shall  we  kill  each  day  ?     If  trifling  kills, 
Sure  vice  must  butcher.     0  what  heaps  of  slain 
Cry  out  for  vengeance  on  us  !      Time   destroyed 
Is  suicide,  where  more  than  blood  is  spilt. 

*        *        *        *         Moments  seize ; 
Heaven's  on  their  wing :  a  moment  we  may  wish, 
When  worlds  want  wealth  to  buy." 

Again ;  this  poem  is  a  well-filled  magazine  of  offensive  arms 
against  scepticism,  and  of  defensive  arms  for  the  security  of  the 
great  Christian  scheme  of  redemption.  The  sixth  and  seventh 
Nights  are  appropriated  to  this  service.  In  the  preiace  to  the  poem 
the  author  remarks  :  "  The  dispute  about  religion  may  be  reduced, 

1  think,  to  this  single  question  ;  Is  man  immortal,  or  is  he  not  ?  If 
he  is  not,  all  our  disputes  are  mere  amusements,  or  trials  of  skill : 
but  if  man  is  immortal,  it  will  behoove  him  to  be  veiy  serious  about 
eternal  consequences,  or,  in  other  words,  to  be  truly  religious.  A.nd 
this  great  fundamental  truth,  unestablished  or  unasvakened  ir  the 
minds  of  men,  is,  I  conceive,  the  real  source  and  support  of  all  our 
infidelity ;  how  remote  soever  the  particular  objections  advanced 
may  seem  to  be  from  it." 

As  a  fair  specimen  of  the  grandeur  and  impressiveness,  and  useful 


INTRODUCTORY    OBSERVATIONS.  / 

tendencies  of  this  portion  of  the  work,  take  the  following,  selected 
with  no  special  care  : — 

"  Know'st  thou  the  importance  of  a  soul  immortal  ? 
Behold  this  midnight  glory  :  worlds  on  worlds ! 
Amazing  pomp !     Redouble  this  amaze : 
Ten  thousand  add ;  and  twice  ten  thousand  more : 
Then  weigh  the  whole.     One  soul  outweighs  them  all , 
And  calls  the  astonishing  magnificence 
Of  unintelligent  creation  poor. 
For  this,  believe  not  me  :  no  man  believe ; 
Trust  not  in  words,  but  deeds ;  and  deeds  no  less 
Than  those  of  the  Supreme ;  nor  his,  a  few : 
Consult  them  all :  consulted,  all  proclaim 
Thy  soul's  importance." 

Another  great  advantage  of  the  frequent  perusal  of  the  poem  will 
be  found  in  its  eloquent  inculcation  of  those  great  Christian  doc- 
trines which  he  at  the  foundation  of  pure  morals  and  sound  religion. 
Faith  in  those  doctrines  may  be  acquired,  or  greatly  strengthened 
by  a  familiar  intercourse  with  the  sublime  communings  of  the 
"  Night-watcher."  His  address  to  the  triune  Godhead,  in  the  last 
night,  is  wonderfully  sublime  and  impressive.     To  the  Son  he  says : 

':  0  thou  Patron-God  ! 
Thou  God  and  mortal !  thence  more  God  to  man ! 
Man's  theme  eternal !  man's  eternal  theme ! 
Thou  can'st  not  'scape  uninjured  from  our  praise. 
Uninjured  from  our  praise  can  He  escape, 
Who,  disembosom'd  from  the  Father,  bows 
The  heaven  of  heavens,  to  kiss  the  distant  earth ! 
Breathes  out  in  agonies  a  sinless  soul ! 
Against  the  Cross  Death's  iron  sceptre  breaks ! 
From  famished  Ruin  plucks  her  human  prey ! 
Throws  wide  the  gates  celestial  to  his  foes !" 


8  INTRODUCTORY  OBSERVATIONS. 

We  have  spoken  of  the  "  Night  Thoughts"  as  a  peculiarly  valua- 
ble study  for  young  persons.  We  should  be  guilty  of  a  gross 
offence  against  the  poem,  to  omit  to  add  that  the  general  strain  of 
its  meditations  is  such  as  to  seize  hold  upon  the  sympathies,  and  to 
be  adapted  to  the  wants  of  those  who  are  beginning  to  feel  the  infir- 
mities of  age  ;  and  there  are  but  few  poems,  if  any,  so  well  suited 
to  give  their  thoughts  a  profitable  direction  toward  those  grave  real- 
ities, to  the  borders  of  which  time  is  carrying  them  forward.  If 
there  is  any  class  of  persons  to  whom  the  high  themes  connected 
with  death  and  immortality  should  be  welcome,  it  must  be  they 
whose  advanced  years  admonish  them  that  the  scenes  of  earth  can 
be  enjoyed  but  a  short  time  longer.  And  how  touchingly  does  the 
author  describe  the  case  of  such  ! 

"  0  my  coevals  !  remnants  of  yourselves  1 
Poor  human  ruins  tottering  o'er  the  grave ! 
Shall  we,  shall  aged  men,  like  aged  trees, 
Strike  deeper  their  vile  root,  and  closer  cling, 
Still  more  enamored  of  this  wretched  soil  1 
Shall  our  pale,  withered  hands  be  still  stretched  out, 
Trembling,  at  once,  with  eagerness  and  age  ? 
With  avarice,  and  convulsions,  grasping  hand  ? 
Man  wants  but  little,  nor  that  little  long." 

It  is  not  then  a  useless  labor  to  prepare  this  edition  of  the  "  Night 
Thoughts,"  for  the  use  of  those  who  are  on  or  within  the  precincts 
of  old  age ;  since,  in  reading,  as  the  poet  in  writing  it,  their  experi- 
ence may  accord  with  his  : 

"  I  chase  the  moments  with  a  serious  song, 
Song  soothes  our  pain ;  and  age  has  pains  to  soothe." 

We  have  spoken  of  the  importance  of  the  use  of  this  poem  in  tho 
education  of  the  youthful   mind,  on  account  of  the  weighty  senti- 


INTRODUCTORY    OBSERVATIONS.  9 

ments  briefly  expressed,  and  the  practical  maxims  of  great  value 
scattered  through  its  pages.  As  an  illustration  of  this  remark  the 
following  may  be  offered. 

"  Oh  Time  !  than  gold  more  sacred. 
Part  with  it  as  with  money,  sparing :  pay 
No  moment  but  in  purchase  of  its  worth. 
And  what  its  worth,  ask  death-beds ;  they  can  tell." 

"Tis  greatly  wise  to  talk  with  our  past  hours 
And  ask  them  what  report  they  bore  to  heav'n." 

"  Earth's  highest  station  ends  in  '  Here  he  lies ;' 
And  'Dust  to  dust,'  concludes  her  noblest  song." 

"The  grand  morality  is  love  of  Thee." 

K  A  Christian  is  the  highest  style  of  man." 

"  Believe,  and  show  the  reason  of  a  man ; 
Believe,  and  taste  the  pleasure  of  a  god ; 
Believe,  and  look  with  triumph  on  the  tomb." 

"That  life  is  long  which  answers  life's  great  end: 
The  time  that  bears  no  fruit  deserves  no  name. 
The  man  of  wisdom  is  the  man  of  years." 

"  And  all  may  do  what  has  by  man  been  done. 
The  more  our  spirits  are  enlarged  on  earth, 
The  deeper  draught  shall  they  receive  of  heaven." 

It  has  been  objected  to  this  poem  that  it  often  indulges  in  a  strain 
too  gloomy ;  an  objection  which  is  fully  presented  and  considered 
in  the  following  "  Estimate  of  the  Writings  of  the  Author,"  and  there- 
fore it  may  now  be  sufficient  just  to  enter  our  dissent  from  the  ob- 
jections, and  to  adduce  in  the  author's  vindication  a  few  of  the  beau- 
tiful and  triumphant  lines  with  which  he  brings  his  poem  bo  a  close ; 


10  INTRODUCTORY    OBSERVATIONS. 

showing,  that  whatever  effect  it  ma.)  have  produced  on  other  minds, 
it  had  not  an  unhappy  one  on  his  own ;  and  giving  us  to  under- 
stand that  the  complaint  of  gloominess  must  be  ascribed  to  an 
exclusive  attention  to  certain  portions,  the  subjects  of  which  could 
truthfully  be  endowed  with  no  other  characteristics  ;  and  to  a  neglect 
of  those  other  portions  which  raise  the  enraptured  and  Christian 
mind  to  the  very  heavens,  in  joyful  anticipations  of  what  he  describes 
as  existing  there,  and  in  grateful  thank-offerings  to  the  Divine  bene- 
volence. 

"  Then,  farewell,  Night !     Of  darkness,  now  no  more . 
Joy  breaks,  shines,  triumphs  :  'tis  eternal  Day. 
Shall  that  which  rises  out  of  nought  complain 
Of  a  few  evils,  paid  with  endless  joys  1 
My  soul !  henceforth  in  sweetest  union  join 
The  two  supports  of  human  happiness. 
Which  some,  erroneous,  think  can  never  meet ; — 
True  taste  of  life,  and  constant  thought  of  Death ; 
The  thought  of  Death,  sole  victor  of  its  dread  ! 
Hope  be  thy  joy,  and  probily  thy  skill ; 
Thy  Patron  He,  whose  diadem  has  dropp'd 
Yon  gems  of  heaven  ;  eternity  thy  prize." 

In  taking  up  the  productions  of  any  distinguished  author  there  is 
naturally  and  universally  felt  a  strong  desire  to  learn  something  of 
his  history  and  character  :  if  he  be  a  writer  of  genius,  it  is  advan- 
tageous to  most  readers  also,  to  be  furnished  with  a  ciitical  account 
of  his  -writings,  as  a  preparation  for  reading  them  with  an  intelligent 
appreciation  of  the  excellencies  and  defects,  or  as  a  means  of  awak- 
ening the  attention  to  all  those  qualities  and  objects  that  are  intrin- 
sically most  deserving  of  it.  The  author  of  the  present  edition  has 
therefore  deemed  it  important  to  draw  up  a  memoir  of  Dr.  Young, 
though  the  materials  for  it  are  by  no  means  abundant.  He  has 
availed  himself  of  all  he  could  command,  and  has  embodied  mora 


INTRODUCTORY    OBSERVATIONS.  11 

particulars  of  interest  than  are  to  be  found  in  any  one  of  the  pub- 
lished accounts  he  has  seen.  Perhaps  he  may  be  charged  "with 
occupying  too  much  space  in  exhibiting  one  particular  phase  of  the 
poet's  character,  but  it  was  one  that  has  awakened  more  curiosity, 
and  has  needed  more  explanation  than  any  other.  Besides,  in 
offering  tins  explanation  incidents  in  themselves  worthy  of  atten- 
tion are  brought  to  view,  and  thus  a  double  end  has  been  accom- 
plished. 

The  ';  Critical  Estimate"  that  follows  the  memoir  is  made  up 
chiefly  of  those  criticisms  from  other  authors,  which  he  has  judged 
most  suitable  to  convey  a  correct  and  comprehensive  view  of  the 
characteristic  traits  of  the  writings  to  which  they  relate  ;  arranged  in 
a  convenient  order,  and  connected  by  such  observations  of  his  own 
as  seemed  to  be  required  to  place  them  in  a  just  point  of  view. 

In  the  preparation  of  the  "  Notes,"  the  path  is  an  untrodden  one, 
and  as  it  lies  through  many  an  obscure,  wild,  and  intricate  forest,  and 
abrupt  defile,  while  it  also  traverses  many  a  beautiful  garden,  and 
commands  many  a  sublime  and  picturesque  view  of  nature  and  of 
redemption,  the  office  of  a  guide  is  felt  to  be  one  that  might  advan- 
tageously have  been  confided  to  a  person  of  higher  qualifications ; 
but  as  no  such  person  has  appeared,  or  proffered  their  services,  it  is 
hoped  the  present  attempt  will  be  met  with  indulgence.  If  the 
annotator  has  fallen  into  mistakes  himself,  and  has  thus  misled 
others  in  any  part  of  the  way,  his  only  apology  is,  that  he  has  put 
forth  an  honest  and  faithful  endeavour  to  show  his  readers  just  what 
the  "  Night  Thoughts"  contain,  clearing  away  all  obstructions  to  a 
full  and  close  view  of  the  objects  both  of  beauty  and  of  deformity, 
of  sublimity  and  of  insignificance.  Many  a  thoughtful  and  many  a 
pleasant  hour  has  been  passed  in  this  endeavour ;  but  the  author 
enjoys  the  additional  satisfaction  of  having  provided  welcome  and 
needful    assistance   to  future    readers    of   the    immortal   "  Night 


12  INTRODUCTORY  OBSERVATIONS. 

Thoughts."  To  them,  jn  the  act  of  reading,  he  would  give  the 
same  advice  which  the  poem  gives  in  selecting  a  friend ;  "  pause — 
ponder — sift."  He  would  advise  that  at  least  a  few  minutes  be 
devoted  almost  daily  to  the  perusal  of  its  eloquent  pages  ;  and  that 
a  fair  trial  be  made,  in  the  careful  reading  of  the  whole  work,  of  its 
adaptation  to  enlarge  and  adorn  the  intellect,  to  improve  the  taste, 
to  guide  the  affections  and  the  voluntary  powers,  and  to  place 
before  us  those  realities  and  those  truths  which  it  chiefly  concerns 
us,  as  beings  framed  for  immortality,  to  know  and  to  consider. 

The  present  (revised)  edition  has  been  considerably  improved 
in  its  annotations,  and  is  distinguished  by  the  addition  of  some  in- 
teresting and  recent  observations  from  the  lively  pen  of  Gilfillan, 
upon  the  genius  of  Young,  and  upon  various  portions  of  the 
Night  Thoughts.  The  index,  at  the  close  of  the  volume,  was  es- 
pecially needed  for  a  poem  of  such  a  discursive  character,  and  has 
accordingly  been  prepared. 

The  poem,  thus  supplied  with  illustrative  notes  and  criticisms, 

renders  it  a  very  different  work  to  the  youthful  or  common  mind, 

from  the  poem  in  its  original  naked  form ;  so  that  it  will  be  no 

longer  necessary  to  say,  with  Gilfillan,  "  We  could  never  in  our 

boyhood  get  further  than  the  first  three  cantos.     The  others,  for 

many  years  afterwards,  assumed  the  aspect  of  a  dark  impenetrable 

forest,  full  of  mystery  and  terror — '  Gorgons,  and  hydras,  and 

chimeras  dire.'     Macaulay   somewhere  speaks  of  the  heroism  of 

the  man  who  can  read  the  '  Fairy  Queen'  through ;  but  scarcely 

inferior  to  this  is  the  courage  of  the  student  who  can  walk  through 

all  the  'Night'  of  the  'Thoughts,'  lighted  up  though  it  be  with 

stars  and  constellations  of  intensest  brilliance." 

J.  R.  B. 
Geneva,  N.  Y. 


LIFE  AND  CHARACTER  OF  EDWARD  YOUNG,  LL.D. 


This  distinguished  poet  was  bom  at  Upham,  in  Hampshire 
(England),  in  June,  1681,  his  father  being  then  rector  of  a  church  in 
that  town,  and  a  Fellow  of  Winchester  College,  but  subsequently  he 
was  appointed  chaplain  to  William  and  Mary,  the  sovereigns  of 
Great  Britain,  and  previous  to  his  dea  h,  in  1705,  was  preferred  to 
the  deanery  of  Salisbury. 

The  higher  branches  of  his  education  Young  pursued  in  colleges 
of  great  repute  and  distinguished  advantages — first  at  Winchester 
College,  and  afterwards  at  the  University  of  Oxford.  In  1708,  he 
was  nominated  by  Archbishop  Tennison  to  a  law  fellowship  in  All- 
Souls,  having  owed  these  privileges  in  part  to  the  merits  of  his 
father,  yet  in  a  good  measure  also  to  his  own  intellectual  progress 
and  scholar-like  deportment.  We  must  not  conceal  the  report,  how- 
ever, that  while  connected  with  the  last-named  institution,  his  con- 
duct was  by  no  means  irreproachable,  and  that  he  was  not  the  orna- 
ment of  religion  and  morality  which  he  afterwards  became. 

There  is  some  reason  to  believe  that  the  disparaging  report  to 
which  we  have  referred  may  have  originated  simply  from  the  fact 
that  he  there  became  intimate  with  the  younger  Duke  of  Whar- 
ton, and  that  he  was  not  ashamed  to  accept  and  enjoy  the  patronage 
as  well  as  the  companionship  of  this  eccentric  and  dissolute  noble- 
man, whom  Pope,  perhaps  with  some  exaggeration,  many  years 
after  thus  portrayed : 

"  Wharton,  the  scorn  and  wonder  of  our  days, 
Whose  ruling  passion  was  the  lust  of  praise  •, 
Born  with  whate'er  could  win  it  from  the  wise 


14  LIFE    AND    CHARACTER 

Women  and  fools  must  like  him  or  he  dies : 
Though  wondering  senators  hung  on  all  he  spoke, 
The  club  must  hail  him  master  of  the  joke. 

*  %  *  *  * 
Thus  with  each  gift  of  Nature  and  of  Art, 
And  wanting  nothing  but  an  honest  heart ; 
Grown  all  to  all,  from  no  one  vice  exempt; 
And  most  contemptible,  to  shun  contempt ; 
His  passion  still,  to  covet  general  praise ; 

His  life,  to  forfeit  it  a  thousand  ways  : 

*  *  *  %  * 

He  dies,  sad  outcast  of  each  church  and  state, 
And,  harder  still !  flagitious,  yet  not  great." 

In  regard  to  his  connection  with  this  man,  and  the  patronage 
thus  afforded  him,  we  are  to  remember  that  the  duke  did  not 
become  a  profligate  at  once,  "  the  scorn  and  wonder  of  his  day,"  so 
that  an  intimacy  with  him  in  early  life  may  not  have  justly  involved 
Young  in  reproach ;  while,  as  to  the  debt  of  patronage,  it  may  be 
said  in  extenuation  of  the  act  of  becoming  its  recipient,  that  it  was 
merely  a  continuation  of  a  favor  which  the  earlier  Duke  of  Wharton 
had  conferred  on  Young  for  the  sake  of  his  worthy  father ;  it  was 
natural,  therefore,  that  the  present  duke,  who  had  probably  been 
.  Young's  schoolmate,  and  with  whose  genius  and  agreeable  manners 
he  may  have  been  highly  pleased,  should  continue  the  favor  which 
his  father  had  so  worthily  bestowed.  Nor  has  any  evidence  been 
produced  to  show  that  while  our  author  associated  with  this  nobleman 
and  enjoyed  his  pecuniary  favors,  he  adopted  any  of  his  dishonorable 
and  immoral  practices.  In  1717,  he  travelled  with  him  into  Ireland, 
and  of  this  patronage  Young  afterwards,  it  is  said,  took  pains  to 
efface  the  remembrance.  It  would  seem,  from  the  testimony  of 
Tindal,  who  was  a  fellow  student  with  Young,  and  afterwards  be- 
came a  distinguished  writer  in  favor  of  deism,  that  Young  in  that 
early  period  was  zealously  devoted  to  the  defence  of  Christianity. 
"  The  other  boys,"  said  Tindal,  "  I  can  always  answer,  because  I 
always  know  whence  they  have  their  arguments,  which  I  have  read 
a  hundred  times  ;  but  that  fellow,  Young,  is  continually  pestering 
me  with  something  of  his  own." 

Some  of  the  alleged  habits  of  Young  during  his  collegiate  life, 


OF    EDWARD    YOUNG,    LL.D.  15 

may,  for  their  singularity,  be  worthy  of  record.  At  Oxford,  the 
story  was  related,  that  when  he  engaged  in  the  work  of  composing, 
he  was  accustomed  to  close  his  window  blinds,  even  at  mid-day,  and 
to  light  his  lamp;  and  that  skulls  and  other  bones,  and  some  instru- 
ments of  death,  were  placed  around  him,  as  the  ornaments  of  his 
study.  This  singular  habit  may  be  regarded  as  being  at  once  the 
indication  and  the  promoter  of  that  gloominess  of  imagination  for 
which  he  became  so  distinguished,  and  which  fitted  him  to  write  so 
impressively  on  various  topics  which  are  most  largely  treated  in  the 
"  Night  Thoughts,"  and  in  the  "  Last  Day." 

The  following  anecdote,  as  illustrative  of  Young's  spirit  and 
energy,  may  be  worth  relating.  In  the  early  part  of  his  life  he  was 
fond  of  music,  and  touched  the  German  flute  with  great  skill.  On 
one  occasion,  while  sailing  upon  the  Thames  with  several  ladies,  he 
performed  a  few  tunes  and  then  put  the  flute  in  his  pocket.  Just  at 
this  moment  some  officers  rowing  by  insolently  asked  him  why  he 
stopped  playing.  "  For  the  same  reason  that  I  began  to  play,"  said 
Young,  "  to  please  myself."  One  of  them  immediately  ordered  him 
to  resume  his  playing,  and  threatened  to  put  him  into  the  river 
should  he  refuse  to  do  it  forthwith.  The  ladies  becoming  much 
alarmed  at  such  rudeness,  Young,  for  then  sake,  complied  with  the 
order,  and  played  till  both  parties  reached  Vauxhall,  where  they 
passed  the  evening.  Young,  having  closely  examined  the  officer  who 
issued  the  order,  took  an  opportunity,  in  one  of  the  dark  walks,  to 
tell  him  that  he  expected  him  to  meet  him  at  a  certain  place  in  the 
morning,  to  render  him  satisfaction  for  the  insult  of  the  preceding 
afternoon,  and  stated  that  he  made  choice  of  swords  as  the  weapons 
to  be  used.  The  officer  kept  the  appointment,  but  was  much  sur- 
prised to  see  Young  advance  towards  him  with  a  horse  pistol,  with 
which  he  declared  he  would  instantly  shoot  the  officer  through  the 
head  if  he  did  not  proceed  to  dance  a  hornpipe.  After  some  h<  sta- 
tion and  remonstrance,  the  officer,  not  daring  to  decline,  yielded  to 
the  demand,  under  the  conviction,  probably,  of  his  own  impertinence 
the  day  before,  and  made  a  satisfactory  acknowledgment,  and  thus 
the  affair  ended. 

At  an  early  period  of  life  the  genius  of  Young  for  poetry  began 
to  be  developed,  and  gave  origin  to  several  productions  which  gained 


1G  LIFE    AND    CHARACTER 

him  considerable  reputation.  From  his  youth  he  is  said  to  have  felt 
that  passion  for  glory  which  ordinarily  indicates  the  possession  of 
great  talents,  and  which  often  counteracts  a  passion  for  the  acquisi- 
tion of  property.  But,  with  Young,  both  glory  and  fortune  were 
simultaneously  and  eagerly  pursued,  both  early  and  late  in  life.  In 
Night  VII.  he  declares : 

"  Though  disappointments  in  ambition  pain, 
And  though  success  disgusts ;  yet  still,  Lorenzo, 
In  vain  we  strive  to  pluck  it  from  our  hearts  ; 
By  nature  planted  for  the  noblest  ends. 
%  *  *  *  *  -* 

What  is  it,  but  the  love  of  praise,  inspires, 
Matures,  refines,  embellishes,  exalts 
Earth's  happiness  1    From  that,  the  delicate, 
The  grand,  the  marvellous  of  civil  life,"  &c. 

It  is  represented  to  have  been  to  him  a  great  luxury  to  paint  the 
miseries  of  the  world,  because  it  did  not  immediately  gratify  his  am- 
bitious aspirations ;  and  the  remark  has  been  made,  that  if  he  had 
been  honored  in  his  mature  years  with  the  name,  place,  and  emolu- 
ments of  a  bishopric,  it  is  quite  doubtful  whether  the  "Night 
Thoughts"  would  ever  have  been  elaborated  and  given  to  the  world. 
If  this  be  so,  we  certainly  have  reason  to  congratulate  ourselves  and 
others  that  his  ambitious  designs  were  not  crowned  with  success. 
That  he  was  not  indifferent  to  distinctions  and  emoluments  of  this 
sort,  is  plain  enough,  from  his  constant  habit  of  dedicating  his  poeti- 
cal productions  to  persons  of  noble  birth  and  of  opulence ;  to  such 
chiefly  as  were  able  to  promote,  if  they  saw  fit,  these  upward  aims 
of  the  poet.  The  same  thing  is  plainly  to  be  seen  in  some  portions 
of  the  "  Night  Thoughts"  themselves. 

Among  his  first  poetical  adventures  was  an  epistle  to  the  Right 
Honorable  George,  Lord  Lansdowne,  published  in  1712.  In  this 
poem,  it  has  been  truly  observed,  he  began  the  siege  of  patronage, 
in  which  we  find  him  still  engaged,  and  still  unsuccessfully,  in  the 
very  decline  of  life, 

"  Twice  told  the  period  spent  on  stubborn  Troy, 
Court  favor,  yet  untaken.  I  besiege." 


OF    EDWAUD    YOUNG,    LL.D.  17 

His  poem  on  the  "  Last  Day"  is  prefaced  by  an  inscription  to  no 
humbler  personage  than  the  queen.  It  is  said,  however,  in  explana- 
tion of  this,  that  he  had  been  employed  as  a  writer  to  the  Court, 
and  to  have  received  for  this  service  a  regular  salary.  To  this  fact 
Dean  Swift  is  supposed  to  refer  in  his  Rhapsody  on  Poetry.  Speak- 
ing of  the  Court,  he  says : 

"  Whence  Gay  was  banished  in  disgrace, 
Where  Pope  will  never  show  his  face, 
Where  Y —  must  torture  his  invention 
To  flatter  knaves,  or  lose  his  pension." 

The  conclusion  that  Young  was  intended  is  plainly  sustained  by 
the  following  lines  from  the  same  poem : 

"  Attend  ye  Popes,  and  Youngs,  and  Gays, 
And  tune  your  harps,  and  strew  your  bays, 
You  panegyrics  here  provide, 
You  cannot  err  on  flattery's  side."' 

For  the  purpose  of  illustrating  the  character  and  aims  of  the 
author  at  the  period  referred  to,  when  he  was  about  thirty  years  of 
age,  the  substance  of  the  dedication  to  the  queen  is  here  adduced : — 
It  awards  great  praise  to  the  queen  for  the  victories  achieved  under 
her  reign  and  direction,  but  proceeds  to  say,  that  the  author  is  more 
pleased  to  see  her  rise  from  this  lower  world,  soaring  above  the 
clouds,  passing  the  first  and  second  heavens,  and  leaving  the  fixed 
stars  behind  her  ;  nor  will  he  lose  her  there,  he  adds,  but  keep  her 
still  in  view  through  the  boundless  space  on  the  other  side  of  crea- 
tion, in  her  journey  towards  eternal  bliss,  till  he  beholds  the  heaven 
of  heavens  open,  and  angels  receiving  and  conveying  her  still  on- 
ward from  the  stretch  of  his  imagination,  which  tires  in  her  pursuit 
and  falls  back  again  to  earth  i 

Another  graphic  illustration  of  the  character  and  aims  of  the 
author  about  this  period,  is  found  in  the  history  of  his  next  publi- 
cation, "  The  Force  of  Religion,"  which  is  founded  on  the  incidents 
connected  with  the  execution  of  Lady  Jane  Gray,  and  her  husband 
Lord  Guilford  Dudley,  1554.  In  the  dedication  of  it  to  the  coun 
tess  of  Salisbury,  he  expresses  the  hope  that  it  may  be  some  excust 


18  LIFE    AND    CHARACTER 

for  the  author's  presumption,  that  the  story  could  not  have  been  read 
without  the  thoughts  of  the  countess  of  Salisbury,  though  it  had 
been  dedicated  to  another.  "  To  behold,"  he  adds,  "  a  person  only 
virtuous  stirs  in  us  a  prudent  regret ;  to  behold  a  person  only  amia- 
ble to  the  sight,  warms  us  with  a  religious  indignation  ;  but  to  turn 
our  eyes  to  a  countess  of  Salisbury,  gives  us  pleasure  and  improve- 
ment ;  it  works  a  sort  of  miracle  ;  occasions  the  bias  of  our  nature 
to  fall  off  from  sin,  and  makes  our  very  senses  and  affections  con 
verts  to  our  religion,  and  promoters  of  our  duty."  Such  a  compli 
mentary  effusion  was  probably  not  without  its  pecuniary  reward. 

After  queen  Anne's  death,  in  1714,  he  prepares  a  poem  on  the 
sad  event,  inscribed  to  Addison,  in  which  he  takes  good  care  to 
introduce  a  flattering  panegyric  on  the  accession  of  George  I.  to  the 
throne,  and  this,  doubtless,  was  the  chief  design.  Among  other 
things,  he  declares,  though  at  the  very  outset  of  his  reign,  that  his 
new  subjects  bless  the  gods  for  such  a  king  and  asked  no  more. 
This  poem  was  not  introduced,  however,  by  the  author  into  his  edi- 
tion of  his  complete  works.  Perhaps  he  became  ashamed  of  its 
flatteries  and  selfish  designs. 

His  famous  tragedy,  "The  Revenge,"  appeared  in  1721,  and,  as 
a  matter  of  course,  was  dedicated  to  some  individual  of  noble  rank 
and  ample  means.  The  duke  of  "Wharton  was  selected  for  the  dis- 
tinction. "  Your  grace,"  says  the  dedication,  "  has  been  pleased  to 
make  yourself  accessary  to  the  following  scenes,  not  only  by  suggest- 
ing the  most  beautiful  incident  in  them,  but  by  making  all  possible 
provision  for  the  success  of  the  whole."  He  further  speaks  in  this 
document  of  his  patron  in  the  following  courtly  terms  :  "  My  pre- 
sent fortune  is  his  bounty,  and  my  future  his  care ;  which,  I  will 
venture  to  say,  will  be  always  remembered  to  his  honor ;  since  he,  I 
know,  intended  his  generosity  as  an  encouragement  to  merit ;  though, 
through  his  very  pardonable  partiality  to  one  who  bears  him  so  sin- 
cere a  duty  and  respect,  I  suppose  to  receive  the  benefit  of  it."  This 
dedication,  having  answered  its  purpose,  was,  like  the  others  referred 
to,  excluded  from  the  author's  own  edition  of  his  complete  works. 
To  the  duke  he  appears  to  have  been  indebted  for  two  annuities,  one 
bearing  date  of  March  24,  1719;  the  other  was  dated  July  10, 
1*722  :  he  also  received  a  bond  for  a  large  amount  in  1  721. 


OF    EDWARD    YOUNG,    I.I..D.  19 

"  The  Love  of  Fame,"  the  universal  passion,  embracing  several 
satires,  published  in  1728,  was  dedicated  to  the  duke  of  Dorset, 
Lord  "Wilmington,  Sir  Robert  Walpole,  &c.  It  is  said  that  this 
poem  secured  to  him  from  the  duke  of  Grafton  the  handsome 
amount  of  two  thousand  pounds  ;  yet  this  account  is  not  univer- 
sally credited. 

His  ability  to  flatter  may  be  discerned  in  a  few  lines  which  we 
shall  quote  from  the  first  of  these  Satires,  addressed  to  the  duke  of 
Dorset. 

"  My  verse  is  satire  ;  Dorset,  lend  your  ear, 
And  patronise  a  muse  you  cannot/ear. 
To  poets  sacred  is  a  Dorset's  name, 
Their  wonted  passport  through  the  gates  of  fame. 
*  *  *  *  *  * 

Satire  !  had  I  thy  Dorset's  force  divine, 
A  knave  or  fool  should  perish  in  each  line ; 
Though  for  the  first  all  Westminster  should  plead, 
And  for  the  last  all  Gresham  intercede." 

None  better  than  our  author  understood  the  susceptibility  of  the 
human  heart  to  the  influence  of  praise :  none,  perhaps,  have  more 
frequently  employed  it  to  advance  his  own  fame  or  fortune.  In  this 
same  satire  he  most  truly  says  : — 

"  The  love  of  praise,  howe'er  concealed  by  art, 
Reigns,  more  or  less,  and  glows  in  every  heart : 
The  proud,  to  gain  it,  toils  on  toils  endure  ; 
The  modest  shun  it.  but  to  make  it  sure. 
O'er  globes  and  sceptres,  now  on  thrones  it  swells; 
Now  trims  the  midnight  lamp  in  college  cells  : 
'Tis  Tory,  Whig ;  it  plots,  prays,  preaches,  pleads, 
Harangues  in  senates,  squeaks  in  masquerades. 
Nor  ends  with  life ;  but  nods  in  sable  plumes, 
Adorns  our  hearse,  and  flatters  on  our  tombs." 

It  would  be  difficult,  perhaps,  to  exculpate  our  author  from  that 
offence  which  he  so  well  satirizes  in  other  poets.  He  was  not  always 
careful  to  bestow  his  exuberant  praise  upon  deserving  characters. 
In  his  desire  to  obtain  the  notice  and  the  patronage  of  greatness,  he 
was  not  always  sufficiently  discriminating  in  regard  to  another  qua- 


20  LIFE    AND    CHARACTER 

lity,  more  deserving — that  of  goodness.  If  he  erred,  it  was  not 
through  ignorance  or  inadvertence ;  for  in  the  satire  already  quoted, 
we  find  some  very  just  invectives  upon  the  prostitution  of  poetry  to 
the  adulation  of  vice. 

"  Shall  Poesy,  like  law,  turn  wrong  to  right, 
And  dedications  wash  an  jEthiop  white, 
Set  up  each  senseless  wretch  for  nature's  boast, 
On  whom  praise  shines,  as  trophies  on  a  post  ? 
Shall  funeral  eloquence  her  colours  spread, 
And  scatter  roses  on  the  wealthy  dead  ? 
Shall  authors  smile  on  such  illustrious  days, 
And  satirise  with  nothing — but  their  praise  ?" 

It  is  the  opinion  of  Croker  that  the*  comparative  neglect  into 
which  Young's  works  have  fallen,  may  he  attributed  in  some  degree 
to  his  disgusting  flattery  of  his  patrons,  male  and  female  ;  all  his  wit, 
pathos,  and  force — and  they  are  very  great — not  being  able  to  coun- 
teract the  effect  of  the  deplorable  adulation  which  he  practised. 
From  this  fault,  however,  the  "  Night  Thoughts"  are  almost  entirely 
free. 

In  further  illustration  of  our  author's  peculiarities,  as  a  seeker  of 
royal  and  court  patronage  and  distinction,  it  may  be  mentioned, 
that  upon  the  accession  of  George  II.,  and  the  delivery  of  his  first 
speech  to  the  Parliament,  in  1*728,  a  poem  was  soon  published,  on 
the  basis  of  some  remarks  with  reference  to  British  seamen  con- 
tained in  that  speech.  "  Ocean"  was,  accordingly,  the  title  prefixed 
to  it.  It  is  addressed  to  the  king.  And  how  does  he  speak  of  kirn  ? 
Among  other  fine  things,  he  says  : — 

"  To  whom  should  I  address  my  song  ? 
To  whom  but  thee  ? 
The  boundless  sea, 
And  grateful  muse  to  George  belong. 
%  #  *  * 

What  hero's  praise 

Can  fire  my  lays 
Like  his  with  whom  my  lay  begun? 

Justice  sincere, 

And  courage  clear, 
Risp  the  two  columns  of  his  throne. 


OF    EDWARD    YOU.VG,    LL.D.  21 

How  formed  for  sway  ! 

Who  look,  obey : 
They  read  the  monarch  in  his  port. 

Their  love  and  awe 

Supply  the  law 
And  his  own  lustre  makes  the  court. 

*  *  *  *  * 

By  godlike  arts 
Enthron'd  in  hearts 
Our  bosom-lord  o'er  wills  presides." 

Our  author  had  not  yet  become  a  clergyman.  In  17 14,  ho 
received  his  degree  of  Bachelor  of  Civil  Law  :  in  1719,  the  degree 
of  Doctor  of  Laws — the  year  in  which  died  Addison,  to  whom 
English  literature  is  so  deeply  indebted.  A  particular  intimacy 
seems  to  have  long  subsisted  between  these  two  individuals.  They 
were  in  the  habit,  it  is  said,  of  communicating  to  each  other  what- 
ever verses  they  composed  ;  and  when  Addison  died,  it  was  beauti- 
fully and  truthfully  said  of  him  by  his  surviving  friend  and  admirer : 

"  And  guilt's  chief  foe  in  Addison  has  fled." 

Such  (says  Dodsley's  Annual  Register,  1765)  was  the  success  of 
the  poem  on  the  "  Last  Day,"  and  of  the  poem  entitled,  "  Force 
of  Religion,"  in  an  age  when  the  noblest  productions  were  common, 
and  even  the  meanest  rewarded,  that  he  was  taken  particular  notice 
of  by  several  of  the  nobility ;  and  the  turn  of  his  mind  leading  him 
to  the  church,  he  went  into  orders,  and,  in  1728,  was  made  one  of 
the  king's  chaplains  :  he  afterwards,  in  1730,  obtained  the  living  of 
"YVelwyn,  in  Hertfordshire,  worth  about  five  hundred  pounds  per 
annum ;  and  though  ever  in  the  full  blaze  of  favour,  he  never  had 
the  fortune  to  rise  to  greater  preferment.  Indeed,  during  the  last 
reign  (George  II.)  the  arts  of  poetry  or  of  real  eloquence  were  but 
little  promoted  or  encouraged  from  the  throne.  Young  could 
expect  no  great  honours  from  a  master  who  hated  poetry,  and  styled 
all  poets  with  the  odious  appellation  of  "Buffoons."  For  some 
years  before  the  death  of  the  late  prince  of  Wales,  Young,  who  was 
in  favour  with  his  royal  highness,  attended  the  court  pretty  constantly, 
but  upon  his  decease  all  his  hopes  of  church  advancement  vanished. 


22  LIFK    AND    CHARACTER 

and  towards  the  latter  end  of  hi3  life  his  very  desires  of  fortune 
seemed  to  forsake  him. 

The  poem  already  alluded  to,  and  quoted  in  part,  concludes  with 
a  "  Wish,"  some  stanzas  of  which  will  serve  to  throw  light  upon  the 
author's  character.  They  present  it  under  an  aspect  quite  unlike  the 
manifestations  of  it  hitherto  furnished,  and  those  which  appear  in 
the  subsequent  portion  of  his  life. 

"  In  landscapes  green 

True  bliss  is  seen, 
With  innocence,  in  shades,  she  sports  ■, 

In  wealthy  towns 

Proud  labour  frowns, 
And  painted  sorrow  smiles  in  courts. 

These  scenes  untried 

Subdued  my  pride, 
To  Fortune's  arrows  bared  my  breast, 

Till  wisdom  came, 

A  hoary  dame  ! 
And  told  me  pleasure  was  in  rest. 

Oh  may  I  steal 

Along  the  vale 
Of  humble  life,  secure  from  foes  I 

My  friend  sincere, 

My  judgment  clear, 
And  gentle  business  my  repose. 

My  mind  be  strong 

To  combat  wrong ! 
Grateful,  O  king  !  for  favours  shown  I 

Soft  to  complain 

For  others'  pain, 
And  bold  to  triumph  o'er  my  own  I 

Prophetic  schemes 

And  golden  dreams 
May  I  unsanguine  cast  away ! 

Have  what  I  have, 

And  live,  not  leave, 
Enamoured  of  the  present  day  J 


OP    EDWARD    YOUNG,    LL.D.  23 

My  hours  my  own, 

My  faults  unknown, 
My  ;hief  revenue  in  content ! 

Then  leave  one  beam 

Of  honest  fame, 
And  scorn  the  laboured  monument ! 

Unhurt  my  urn, 

Till  that  great  turn 
When  mighty  nature's  self  shall  die ; 

Time  cease  to  chide 

With  human  pride, 
Sunk  in  the  ocean  of  eternity." 

Soon  after  entering  upon  the  duties  of  his  charge  in  Welwyn,  a 
playful  incident  occurred,  which  may  be  related  as  an  illustration  of 
his  extemporaneous  wit  and  humour.  Walking  in  his  garden,  in 
company  with  two  ladies,  a  servant  announced  to  him  that  a  gentle- 
man was  in  the  house  who  desired  to  speak  with  him.  "  Tell  him," 
says  Young,  "  I  am  too  happily  engaged  to  change  my  situation." 
The  ladies  insisted,  however,  that  he  should  leave  them  and  repair 
to  the  house,  as  his  visitor  was  a  man  of  rank,  his  patron,  his  friend. 
Then-  persuasions  having  no  effect,  one  of  the  ladies  took  him  by  the 
right  arm,  and  the  other  by  the  left,  and  led  him  to  the  garden- 
gate,  when,  discovering  that  resistance  was  vain,  he  politely  bowed, 
laid  his  hand  upon  his  breast,  and  in  that  expressive  manner  for 
which  he  was  ever  remarkable,  he  poured  forth  impromptu  the  fol- 
lowing lines : — 

K  Thus  Adam  look'd  when  from  the  garden  driven, 
And  ihus  disputed  orders  sent  from  heaven  : 
Like  him  I  go,  and  yet  to  go  am  loth ; 
Like  him  I  go,  for  angels  drove  us  both. 
Hard  was  his  fate,  but  mine  still  more  unkind  ; 
His  Eve  went  with  him,  but  mine  stays  behind." 

She  did  not  "  stay  behind"  always  ;  for,  not  many  months  subse- 
quently to  this  incident,  one  of  these  persons,  Lady  Elizabeth  Led 
walked  with  him  to  Hymen's  altar,  having  at  the  time  a  son  and 
two  daughters  by  her  former  husband.  This  son  was  in  the  army, 
and  di*id  soon  after  tliis  period.     The  eldest  daughter  married  Mr. 


2'1  LIFE    AND    CHARACTER 

Temple,  a  son  of  Lord  Palmerston,  and  soon  fell  into  consumption 
and  died  at  Lyons,  in  France,  on  her  way  to  Nice,  in  173G,  within  a 
year  after  her  marriage,  and  at  the  early  age  of  seventeen.  She  is 
the  Narcissa  of  the  "  Night  Thoughts,"  and  some  interesting  par- 
ticulars are  therein  given,  in  the  text  and  notes,  of  her  lamented  end. 

In  the  choice  of  a  wife,  it  thus  will  be  seen  that  Young  was 
actuated  by  the  same  regard,  as  in  other  matters,  to  worldly  honour 
and  distinction  ;  having  been  married,  in  1731,  to  the  person  already 
mentioned — Lady  Elizabeth  Lee,  daughter  of  the  earl  of  Litchfield, 
and  widow  of  Colonel  Lee.  We  shall  have  something  more  to  say 
of  her  in  the  notes  to  the  "  Night  Thoughts." 

This  justly  celebrated  poem  was  commenced,  in  1741,  having 
originated  from  great  domestic  affliction  in  the  loss  of  his  wife,  and 
of  her  son  and  daughter.  In  the  Seventh  Night  he  thus  patheti- 
cally writes : — 

.     .     .    "  Friends,  our  chief  treasure,  how  they  drop ! 
Lucia,  Narcissa  fair,  Philander,  gone  ! 
The  grave,  like  fabled  Cerberus,  has  oped 
A  triple  mouth  ;  and,  in  an  awful  voice, 
Loud  calls  my  soul,  and  utters  all  I  sing." 

It  may  be  added,  however,  in  further  illustration  of  our  author's 
tastes  and  fixed  habits  of  thought,  that  he  inscribed  the  several 
books,  except  the  seventh  and  eighth,  of  this  his  most  popular  poem, 
to  distinguished  and  noble  personages  ;  and  in  Book  IV.,  which  he 
wrote  at  a  somewhat  advanced  age,  he  lets  us  understand  that  he 
had  been  an  assiduous  aspirant  after  the  favour  of  the  great  and  the 
wealthy.  He  had  now  for  ten  years  and  more  been  occupying  the 
rectory  of  AVelwyn,  besides  the  lordship  of  the  manor  connected 
with  the  rectory.  No  one  can  read  the  early  portion  of  the  Fourth 
Night,  where  he  speaks  of  himself  and  his  coevals,  without  discover- 
ing that  his  ambitious  designs  had  been  far  from  successful ;  that 
discontent  was  preying  upon  his  mind,  inducing  a  gloom  which 
otherwise  would  not  have  rested  upon  it ;  that  his  vieAvs  of  the 
world  arc  occasionally  too  much  embrowned  by  indulging  in  the 
state  of  mind  thus  induced  ;  and  that  his  intellectual  perceptions  of 
the  vanity  of  earthly  grandeur  and  distinction  had  failed  to  impreg 


OF    EDWARD    YOUNG,    LL.D.  2o 

oate  sufficiently  the  affections  of  his  heart.  He  complains  of  younger 
men  coming  up  on  the  stage  of  life  and  pushing  him  from  the 
Bcene. 

"Ah  me  !  the  dire  effect 
Ofloitering  here,  of  death  defrauded  long; 
Of  old  so  gracious  (and  let  that  suffice) 
My  very  master  knows  me  not. 

Shall  I  dare  say,  peculiar  is  the  fate? 
I"ve  been  so  long  remembered,  I'm  forgot. 
When  in  his  courtiers'  ears  I  pour  my  plaint, 
They  drink  it  as  the  nectar  of  the  great, 
And  squeeze  my  hand,  and  beg  me  come  to-morrow  ! 
Refusal !  can'st  thou  wear  a  smoother  form  ? 

Twice  told  the  period  spent  on  stubborn  Troy, 
Court-favour,  yet  untaken,  I  besiege  ; 
Ambition's  ill-judged  effort  to  be  rich. 
Alas !  ambition  makes  my  little  less, 
Imbittering  the  possess'd.     Why  wish  for  more  i 
Wishing,  of  all  employments,  is  the  worst !" 

Yet  he  afterwards  speaks  of  the  goodness  of  Providence  in  assign- 
ing him  a  quiet  moral  position  in  which  his  heart  was  at  rest,  com- 
paring himself  to  a  shipwrecked  mariner  who  had  been  thrown  safe 
ashore  on  a  single  plank,  the  world  (a  stately  bark)  having  gone  to 
pieces  on  dangerous  seas.  How  beautifully  he  thus  carries  out  the 
figure  : — 

"I  hear  the  tumult  of  the  distant  throng 
As  that  of  seas  remote,  or  dying  storms, 
And  meditate  on  scenes  more  silent  still ; 
Pursue  my  theme,  and  fight  the  fear  of  death." 

He  seems  then  to  have  been  conscious  of  the  folly  of  his  previous 
ambitious  course,  at  least  while  he  was  penning  those  impressive 
"  Night  Thoughts ;"  but  there  is  evidence  that  some  years  after- 
wards he  again  fell  into  his  old  habits  of  seeking  preferment  or 
its  emoluments. 

"  If  this  song  lives,  posterity  shall  know 
One,  though  in  Britain  born,  with  courtiers  bred, 
Who  thought  e'en  gold  might  come  a  day  too  late, 
Nor  ou  his  subtile  death-bed  plann'd  his  scheme 
2 


20  LIFE    AND    CHARACTER 

For  future  vacancies  in  Church  or  State, 

Some  avocation  deeming  it — to  die ; 

Unbit  by  rage  canine  of  dying  rich : 

Guilt's  blunder !  and  the  loudest  laugh  of  hell !" 

That  at  the  time  of  writing  this  poem,  he  was  inclined  to  meddle 
in  the  political  contests  of  the  country  seems  probable  from  some 
lines  in  the  Eighth  Night — 

"  Think  no  post  needful  that  demands  a  knave. 
When  late  our  civil  helm  was  shifting  hands 
So  P thought :  think  better  if  you  can." 

It  must  be  added,  however,  that  in  composing  the  last  lines  of  the 
poem  he  manifests  a  weariness  of  courting  earthly  patrons,  and 
wisely  counsels  his  soul  to  direct  its  regards  to  a  more  powerful  and 
benignant  Patron. 

':  Henceforth 
Thy  patron  He,  whose  diadem  has  dropp'd 
Yon  gems  of  heaven  :  eternity  thy  prize  : 
And  leave  the  racers  of  the  world  their  own, 
Their  feather,  and  their  froth,  for  endless  toils  : 
They  part  with  all  for  that  which  is  not  bread ; 
They  mortify,  they  starve,  on  wealth,  fame,  power; 
And  laugh  to  scorn  the  fools  that  aim  at  moreP 

These  extracts,  to  which  some  characteristic  and  valuable  additions 
might  be  made,  constitute  an  accurate  portrait  of  the  interior  as  well 
as  the  exterior  life  of  Dr.  Young.  Whatever  inferences  we  may 
draw  of  an  unfavourable  nature  with  respect  to  his  practical  wisdom 
and  consistency,  we  must  see  that  his  experience  cannot  fail  to  prove 
highly  important  to  others  ;  that  he  writes  not  from  observation 
merely,  but  from  long  and  varied,  and  at  length  bitter  experience  of 
the  vanity  of  this  world,  and  of  the  folly  of  those  who  seek  no  higher 
honours,  and  no  more  substantial  and  satisfying  pleasures  than  it  is 
capable  of  bestowing  even  upon  its  most  ardent  votaries.  When 
writing  so  eloquently  upon  fame,  riches,  pleasure,  death,  and  eter- 
nity, he  reminds  us  of  Solomon  in  his  old  age  writing  his  Ecclesi- 
astes,  in  which  he  speaks  of  having  tried  the  various  experiences  of 
human  life  in  all  its  gayer  and  most  pleasing  scenes,  and  then  con- 


OF    EDWARD    YOUNG,    I.L.D.  27 

fesses  himself  obliged,  in  all  honesty  and  truthfulness,  to  pronounce 
them  '•  vanity  of  vanity."  The  testimony  of  such  a  man,  writing 
from  experience,  as  well  as  under  the  dictates  of  inspiration,  should 
be  received  without  hesitation :  his  admonitions  are  worthy  of  pre- 
eminent regard.  So,  upon  learning  the  course  of  life  pursued  by 
Dr.  Young,  giving  him  some  of  the  best  opportunities  of  observing 
its  more  attractive  scenes,  and  much  experience  of  its  distinctions 
and  honours,  we  are  prepared  to  yield  the  more  entire  deference  to 
his  statements,  counsels,  and  conclusions.  Ilis  disappointment  at 
the  gratifications  of  the  present  scene  had  been  made  beneficial  to 
his  spiritual  interests,  by  carrying  his  imagination  and  his  intellect 
forward  to  the  scenes  of  an  eternal  state  of  being,  revealed  to  him 
in  the  Holy  Scriptures.  Upon  these  he  writes  with  great  sublimity 
and  power;  and  especially  upon  that  wonderful  process  of  redemp- 
tion, which  secures  a  blissful  immortality  to  the  pure  in  heart — to 
those  made  such  by  the  same  benignant  process. 

Yet  these  truths  seem  to  have  had  so  little  effect  in  curing  his 
inordinate  love  of  the  world,  or  his  hankering  after  its  emoluments, 
that  some  good  men  have  even  expressed  a  doubt  of  the  soundness 
of  Dr.  Young's  piety.  The  Rev.  Richard  Cecil,  of  London,  holds 
this  language  in  regard  to  him.  "  Young  is,  of  all  other  men,  one 
of  the  most  striking  examples  of  the  disunion  of  piety  from  truth" 
If  we  read  his  most  true,  impassioned,  and  impressive  estimate  of 
the  world  and  of  religion,  we  shall  think  it  impossible  that  he  was 
uninfluenced  by  his  subject.  It  is,  however,  a  melancholy  fact,  that 
he  was  hunting  after  preferment  at  eighty  years  old,  and  felt  and 
spoke  like  a  disappointed  man.  The  truth  was  pictured  in  his  mind 
in  most  vivid  colours.  He  felt  it  while  he  was  writing.  He  felt 
himself  on  a  retired  spot,  and  he  saw  death,  the  mighty  hunter,  pur- 
suing the  unthinking  world.  He  saw  redemption — its  necessity  and 
its  grandeur  ;  and  while  he  looked  on  it,  he  spoke  as  a  man  would 
speak  whose  mind  and  heart  were  deeply  engrossed.  Notwithstand- 
ing ail  this,  ili''  view  did  not  reach  his  heart.  Had  I  preached  in 
his  pulpit  with  the  fervor  and  interest  that  his  '  Night  Thoughts' 
discover,  he  would  have  been  terrified.  He  told  a  friend  of  mine, 
who  went  to  him  under  religious  fears,  that  he  must,  r/o  more  into 
the  world  /" 


28  LIFE    AND    CHARACTER 

Dr.  Johnson  seems  to  have  entertained  a  somewhat  similar 
opinion  of  our  author.  The.  bishop  of  St.  Asaph  having  once 
remarked  to  him  that  from  the  writings  of  Horace  it  appeared  that 
he  was  a  very  happy  man,  Johnson  replied — "  We  have  no  reason 
to  believe  that,  my  lord  ;  for  Dr.  Young,  who  pined  for  preferment, 
talks  with  contempt  of  it  in  his  writings,  and  affects  to  despise 
everything  that  he  did  not  despise." 

It  here  becomes  a  pertinent  and  interesting  inquiry,  how  it  hap- 
pens that,  although  Dr.  Young  lived  nearly  forty  years  after  taking 
orders  in  the  church,  a  period  which  included  one  entire  reign,  which 
was  uncommonly  long,  and  part  of  another,  he  was  never  thought 
worthy  of  the  least  preferment ;  at  all  events  did  not  receive  it.  A 
plausible  answer  to  this  inquiry  has  been  given  by  one  of  his  biogra- 
phers, Mr.  Croft. 

"  The  author  of  the  '  Night  Thoughts,'  "  he  says,  "  ended  his  days 
upon  a  living  which  came  to  him  from  his  college  without  any  favor, 
and  to  which  he  probably  had  an  eye  when  he  determined  on  the 
Church.  The  neglect  of  Young  is  by  some  ascribed  to  his  having 
attached  himself  to  the  prince  of  Wales,  and  to  his  having  preached 
an  offensive  sermon  at  St.*  James's.  It  is  said  that  in  the  preceding 
reign  he  had  two  hundred  pounds  a  year  through  the  patronage  of 
Walpole,  and  that  when  any  one  spoke  to  the  king  in  favor  of  Young 
his  reply  was,  "  He  has  a  pension."  There  is  a  very  polite  letter 
from  archbishop  Seeker  which  throws  some  light  on  this  inquiry  • 
just  enough  at  least  to  show  at  what  a  late  period  in  life  the  author 
of  the  "  Night  Thoughts"  solicited  preferment. 

"  Deanery  of  St.  Paul's,  July  8th,  1758. 
"  Good  Dr.  Young — I  have  long  wondered  that  more  suitable  notice  of 
your  great  merit  hath  not  been  taken  by  persons  in  power :  but  how  to 
remedy  the  omission  I  see  not.  No  encouragement  hath  ever  been  given  me 
to  mention  things  of  this  nature  to  his  majesty.  And,  therefore,  in  all  likeli- 
hood, the  only  consequence  of  doing  it  would  be  to  weaken  the  little  influ- 
ence which  else  I  may  possibly  have  on  some  other  occasions.  Your  fortune 
and  your  reputation  set  you  above  the  need  of  advancement;  and  your  senti- 
ments, above  that  concern  for  it,  on  your  own  account,  which,  on  that  of  the 
public,  is  sincerely  felt  by 

';  Your  loving  brother. 

'Thos.  Caunt." 


OK   KuWARD   young,   ll.d.  29 

At  length,  in  1701,  when  Dr.  Young  had  attained  the  age  of 
fourscore,  he  was  appointed  Clerk  of  the  Closet  to  the  princess  dow- 
ager of  Wale3. 

One  obstacle,  it  is  said,  must  have  stood  not  a  little  in  the  way  of 
that  preferment  after  which  his  whole  life  seems  to  have  panted  : 
though  he  took  orders,  he  never  entirely  shook  off  politics  ;  and  thus 
if  he  gained  some  friends,  he  made  many  enemies. 

It  is  further  said,  that  in  the  latter  part  of  his  life  he  was  in  the 
habit  of  holding  himself  out  for  a  man  retired  from  the  world  ;  and 
he  seems  to  have  been  taken,  doubtless  unwillingly,  at  his  word. 
Notwithstanding  his  frequent  complaints  of  being  neglected,  no  hand 
was  extended  to  draw  him  from  that  retirement  of  which  he  declared 
himself  enamoured.  As  Croft  further  remarks — he  who  retires  from 
the  world  will  find  himself  in  reality  deserted  as  fast,  if  not  faster, 
by  the  world. 

The  author's  own  sentiments  and  course  in  making  poetiy  sub- 
servient to  his  interests  and  reputation,  may  be  handsomely  illus- 
trated by  an  extract  from  the  preface  to  his  Satires.  He  had  made 
some  observations  "  which  remind  him  of  Plato's  fable  of  the  Birth 
of  Love,  one  of  the  prettiest  fables  of  all  antiquity  ;  which  will  hold 
likewise  with  regard  to  modern  poetry.  '  Love,'  says  he,  '  is  the  son 
of  the  goddess  of  poverty  and  the  god  of  riches  :  from  his  father 
he  has  daring  genius,  his  elevation  of  thought,  his  building  castles 
in  the  air,  his  prodigality,  his  neglect  of  things  serious  and  useful, 
his  vain  opinion  of  his  own  merit,  and  his  affection  of  preference  and 
distinction  :  from  his  mother  he  inherits  his  indigence,  which  makes 
him  a  constant  beggar  of  favours ;  that  importunity  with  which  he 
begs  ;  his  flattery,  his  servility,  his  fear  of  being  despised,  which  is 
inseparable  from  him.  This  addition  may  be  made : — that  poetry, 
like  love,  is  a  little  subject  to  blindness,  which  makes  her  mistake 
her  way  to  preferments  and  honours :  that  she  has  her  satirical 
quiver ;  and,  lastly,  that  she  retains  a  dutiful  admiration  of  her 
father's  family ;  but  divides  her  favours,  and  generally  lives  with  her 
mother's  relatives.  However,  this  is  not  necessity  but  choice. 
Were  wisdom  her  governess,  she  might  have  much  more  of  the 
father  than  the  mother,  especially  in  such  an  age  as  tins  which 
shows  a  due  passion  for  her  charms." 


30  LIFE    AND    CHARACTER 

An  anecdote  may  here  be  related,  which  is  told  by  Ruff  head,  in 
his  life  of  Tope,  concerning  the  singular  course  adopted  by  Young 
in  preparing  for  the  clerical  profession.  To  the  absolute  truth  of 
the  anecdote,  however,  our  assent  is  not  easily  given.  When  he 
determined  to  change  the  profession  of  law  fur  divinity,  instead  of 
asking  advice  of  Bishops  Sherlock,  Atterbury,  or  Hare,  as  to  the 
course  of  study  he  should  pursue,  he  directed  his  inquiry  on  the 
point  to  his  poetical  friend,  Alexander  Pope,  who  in  a  jocose  mood 
suggested  to  him  the  earnest  study  of  the  writings  of  Thomas  Aqui- 
nas, one  of  the  schoolmen  of  the  dark  ages.  In  compliance  with  the 
suggestion,  regarded  as  sincere  and  profitable,  Dr.  Young  procured 
the  learned  and  mystic  treasure,  sought  an  obscure  retreat  in  the 
suburbs  of  the  city,  where  he  might  be  free  from  interruption,  and 
there  devoted  himself  to  the  study  of  Aquinas.  His  witty  guide  in 
theology,  hearing  nothing  of  him  for  half  a  year,  and  apprehending 
he  might  have  carried  the  jest  farther  than  was  profitable,  found  him 
just  in  time  to  prevent  what  Ruff  head  calls  "  an  irretrievable  de- 
rangement." If  it  be  true  that  he  devoted  six  months'  study  to  the 
writings  of  such  an  ingenious  dispute"  as  Aquinas,  it  may  have  con- 
tributed to  the  shrewdness  and  epigrammatical  point  and  intellectual 
penetration  displayed  by  our  author ;  yet  his  earlier  writings  abound 
in  similar  characteristics.  It  is  certain  that  if  he  had  mastered  the 
entire  works  of  Aquinas,  amounting  to  seventeen  folio  volumes,  and 
those  in  the  Latin  tongue,  he  had  sufficient  employment  for  more 
than  six  months  of  hard,  intellectual  toil,  especially  when  the  cha- 
racter of  those  volumes,  as  described  by  Hallam,  is  taken  into 
account.  Every  question,  he  says,  is  discussed  with  a  remarkable 
observation  of  distinctions,  and  an  unremitting  desire  both  to  com- 
prehend and  to  distribute  a  subject ;  and  to  present  it  to  the  mind 
in  every  possible  light,  and  to  trace  all  its  relations  and  consequenc  a 
The  writings  of  the  schoolmen  embrace  a  vast  compass  of  thought 
and  learning ;  but  their  distinctions  often  confuse  instead  of  giving 
light,  and  the  difficulties  which  they  encounter  are  too  arduous  for 
them  ;  and  we  find  it  impossible,  as  must  generally  be  the  case,  to 
read  so  much  as  a  few  pages  consecutively. 

It  is  quite  possible,  nay,  very  certain,  that  Dr.  Young  did  not  con- 
umself  in  preparing  for  the  duties  of  the  pulpit  to  the  writings 


OK    EDWAKU     1UIMI,    LI..U.  31 

of  Aquinas :  for  his  "  Night  Thoughts"  indicate  that  he  was  no 
mean  theologian  ;  that  he  was  a  well-read  divine.  Nowhere  arc 
the  great  facts  and  doctrines  of  Christianity  more  clearly  and  irn- 
pressively  described  than  in  that  remarkable  production.  But  while 
he  thus  mad-  honourable  attainments  in  the  science  of  theology,  and 
was  an  earnest  and  pathetic  preacher,  he  seems  to  have  heeu  con- 
vinced that  his  surest  road  to  honour  and  preferment  was  the  path 
of  poesy  rather  than  theology.  His  publications,  therefore,  are 
of  the  poetic  order,  almost  exclusively.  Two  or  three  essays  in 
prose,  and  a  few  sermons,  constitute  the  full  amount  of  his  prose 
authorship.  Soon  after  taking  orders,  in  1729,  he  preached  a  ser- 
mon before  the  House  of  Commons,  on  the  martyrdom  of  Charles 
L,  entitled,  "An  Apology  for  Princes,  or  the  Reverence  due  to  Gov- 
ernment." In  17.54  he  put  out  "  The  Centaur  not  Fabulous  ;  in  six 
Letters  to  a  friend,  on  the  Life  in  Vogue."  The  third  letter  is  quite 
celebrated  for  the  graphic  portrait  which  it  presents  of  "  th 
young,  noble,  ingenious,  accomplished,  and  most  wretched  Alta- 
mont,"  whose  last  melancholy  exclamations  were—2-"  my  principles 
have  poisoned  my  friend,  my  extravagance  has  beggared  my  boy, 
my  unkindness  has  murdered  my  wife  !'  Under  the  name  of  Alta- 
niont  Lord  Easton  is  supposed  to  have  been  represented. 

In  1759,  among  the  last  public  efforts  of  his  pen,  and  one  of  the 
most  remarkable,  Avas  a  '■'■Letter  on  Original  Comiiosition"  the 
purpose  of  which  was  to  do  justice  to  the  death-bed  of  Addison,  "  to 
erect"  (as  he  himself  expresses  it)  "  a  monumental  marble  to  the 
memory  of  an  old  friend."  Of  this  letter  it  has  been  observed  that 
when  we  consider  it  as  the  work  of  a  man  turned  of  eighty,  we  are 
not  to  be  surprised  so  much  that  it  has  faults,  as  how  it  should  come 
to  have  beauties.  It  is  indeed  strange  that  the  load  of  fourscore 
years  was  not  able  to  keep  down  that  vigorous  fancy  which  here 
bursts  the  bounds  of  judgment,  and  breaks  the  slavish  shackles  of 
age  and  experience.  This  work  seems  a  brightening  before  death 
and  it  had  been  well  if  the  author  had  stopped  here  ;  but  that  taper 
which  blazed  as  it  declined,  was  at  last  shamefully  exhibited  to  the 
public  as  burning  in  the  socket,  in  a  work  called  "  The  Resignation," 
the  last  but  the  worst  of  all  Dr.  Young's  performances.  But  this 
failure  in  old  age  could  no  way  diminish  the  fame  that  he  had  been 


Cji  UFE    AND    CHARACTER 

earning  by  a  life  of  more  than  sixty  years  of  excellence.  As  a  poet 
he  was  still  considered  the.  only  palladium  left  of  ancient  genius : 
and  as  a  Christian,  one  of  the  finest  examples  of  primeval  piety." 

The  poem  thus  severely  characterized  was  written  at  the  re- 
quest of  the  celebrated  Mrs.  Mary  Wortley  Montague,  and  ad- 
dressed to  the  Hon.  Mrs.  Boscawen,  the  widow  of  a  British  admi- 
ral, to  aid  her  in  the  exercise  of  due  submission  to  providence  in  the 
death  of  her  husband.  Lady  Montague  having  learned  that  her 
bereaved  friend  was  in  the  habit  of  reading  the  "  Night  Thoughts,'- 
and'  had  derived  from  them  much  consolation,  proposed  a  visit  to 
the  author,  and  offered  to  accompany  her.  The  visit  was  performed, 
much  to  the  satisfaction  of  both.  The  conversation  of  Dr.  Young 
proved  to  be  highly  soothing  to  the  afflicted  widow,  and  deeply 
interesting  to  her  sympathizing  friend.  The  visit  of  these  ladies,  in 
like  manner,  seems  to  have  been  eminently  gratifying  to  the  aged 
poet  and  divine.  He  compliments  them  highly  in  the  poem,  Mi's. 
Montague  at  least. 

"Yet  write  I  must.     A  lady  sues: 
How  shameful  her  request ! 
My  brain  in  labour  for  dull  rhyme; 
Hers  teeming  with  the  best  !" 

In  a  subsequent  part  of  the  same  poem,  addressing  Mrs.  Bosca- 
wen, he  continues : 

ll  And  friend  you  have,  and  I  the  same, 
Whose  prudent,  soft  address 
Will  bring  to  life  those  healing  thoughts 
Which  died  in  your  distress." 

Ladv  Montague,  by  her  visit  to  IV.  Young,  seems  to  have  been 
impressed  not  less  favorably  towards  him ;  having  asserted,  that  his 
unbounded  genius  appeared  to  greater  advantage  in  the  companion 
than  even  in  the  author  ;  that  the  Christian  was  in  him  a  character 
still  more  inspired,  more  enraptured,  more  sublime  than  the  poet ; 
and  that  in  his  ordinary  conversation, 

': letting  down  the  golden  chain  from  high, 

He  drew  his  audience  upward  to  the  sky.'' 


OF    EDWARD     VOUNG,    J.L.D.  33 

While  the  former  part  of  this  consolatory  poem  was  being  committed 
to  the  press  by  Mr.  Samuel  Richardson,  the  work  was  suddenly  and 
unexpectedly  arrested  by  the  death  of  this  individual,  a  particular 
friend  of  the  poet ;  who  accordingly  introduces  the  painful  incident 
in  the  part  of  the  production  which  he  was  then  writing.  Thus,  while 
engaged  in  consoling  his  noble  acquaintance,  he  was  unexpectedly 
brought  into  circumstances  of  affliction  himself,  which  called  for  the 
same  consolations  he  was  endeavoring  to  administer — 

"  Now  need  /,  Madam !  your  support. 
How  exquisite  the  smart; 
How  critically-timed  the  news 
Which  strikes  me  to  the  heart ! 

¥:  *  H:  *  * 

When  heaven  would  kindly  set  us  free, 

And  earth's  enchantments  end ; 
It  takes  the  most  effectual  means, 

And  robs  us  of  a  friend." 

He  then  introduces  an  honorable  testimony  to  the  genius  and 
merit  of  Richardson,  which  is  worth  preservation. 

"  Whose  frequent  aid  brought  kind  relief 
In  my  distress  of  thought, 
Ting'd  with  his  beams  my  cloudy  page 
And  beautified  a  fault. 

To  touch  our  passions'  secret  springs, 

Was  his  peculiar  care  ; 
And  deep  his  happy  genius  dived 

In  bosoms  of  the  fair : 

Nature,  which  favors  to  the  few, 

All  art  beyond,  imparts, 
To  him  presented  at  his  birth 

The  key  of  human  hearts. 

But  not  to  me  by  him  bequeathed 

His  gentle,  smooth  address ; 
His  tender  hand  to  touch  the  wound 

In    throbbing  of  distress." 

The  Poem  from  which  the  above  is  taken  was  not  prepared,  tb? 


34  LIFE    AND    CHARACTER 

author  says,  for  publication,  but  was  elicited  by  the  fact  that  some 
extracts  from  the  few  copies  which  were  given  away,  had  been 
inserted  in  the  public  papers,  and  he  feared  that  an  imperfect  edi- 
tion might  thus  fall  under  the  public  eye.  The  critics,  except  Dr 
Johnson,  one  of  the  most  eminent,  have  bestowed  great  severity  of 
remark  upon  its  literary  demerits :  but  the  advanced  age  at  which 
it  was  composed  may  furnish  a  shield  large  enough  to  intercept  all 
their  darts.  It  would  have  been  wise  in  him,  however,  if,  as  one 
suggests,  he  had,  before  publishing,  considered  the  just  remark  of 
Horace  : — 

"  Semel  emissum,  volat  irrevocable  verbum:" 

and  if  also  he  had  answered  the  importunity  of  his  friends,  solicit- 
ing its  publication,  in  the  language  of  the  same  poet,  who  had  then 
seen  but  few  more  than  half  the  years  of  Dr.  Young. 

"  Prima  dicte  mihi,  summa  dicende  Camoena, 
Spectatum  satis,  et  donatum  jam  rude  qua?ris, 
Maecenas,  iterum  antiquo  me  includere  ludo  1 
Non  eadem  est  astas,  non  mens." 

"  Oh  thou,  to  whom  the  Muse  first  tuned  her  lyre, 
Whose  friendship  shall  her  latest  song  inspire, 
Wherefore,  Maecenas,  would  you  thus  engage 
Your  bard,  dismissed  with  honor  from  the  stage, 
Again  to  venture  in  the  lists  of  fame, 
His  youtb,  his  genius,  now  no  more  the  same." 

[Francis's  Horace. 

It  was  about  this  period  that  our  author  received  a  visit  from  the 
excellent  John  Newton,  of  London,  who  has  thus  familiarly  described 
it  in  a  private  letter  to  his  wife,  bearing  date  of  January  G,  1759  : 
"  I  put  up  at  Welling  ( Welwyn),  sent  a  note  to  Dr.  Young,  and 
received  for  answer  that  he  would  be  glad  to  see  me.  I  spent  an 
hour  with  him.  His  conversation  was  agreeable,  and  much  answer- 
able to  what  I  expected  from  the  author  of  the  '  Night  Thoughts.' 
He  seemed  likewise  pleased  with  me.  It  would  have  surprised  you 
to  hear  how  I  let  my  tongue  run  before  this  great  man.  lie  ap- 
proved my  design  of  entering  the  ministry,  and  said  many  encourag- 


OF    EClVAIil)    VOCNG.    LL.D.  35 

ing  tiling  upon  the  subject  ;  and  when  he  dismissed  me,  desired 
that  I  would  never  pass  near  his  house  without  calling  upon  him." 

Here  may  also  be  inserted  as  properly  as  anywhere,  an  extract 
from  one  of  Cowper's  letters  to  Lady  Hesketh,  dated  July  12,  177G. 
"  Our  mentioning  Bishop  Newton's  treatise  on  the  prophecies  brings 
to  my  miud  on  anecdote  of  Dr.  Young,  who,  you  know,  died  lat(  ly 
at  Welwyn.  Dr.  Cotton,  who  was  intimate  with  him,  paid  him  a 
visit  about  a  fortnight  before  he  wras  seized  with  his  last  illness. 
The  old  man  was  then  in  perfect  health.  The  antiquity  of  his  per- 
son, the  gravity  of  utterance,  and  the  earnestness  with  which  he  dis- 
coursed about  religion,  gave  him,  in  the  Doctor's  eye,  the  appear- 
ance of  a  prophet.  They  had  been  delivering  their  sentiments  on 
this  book,  when  Young  closed  the  conference  thus  : — '  My  friend, 
there  are  two  considerations  upon  which  my  faith  in  Christ  is  built  as 
upon  a  rock  :  the  fall  of  man,  the  redemption  of  man,  and  the  resur- 
rection of  man,  the  three  cardinal  articles  of  our  religion,  are  such  as 
human  ingenuity  could  never  have  invented ;  therefore  they  must 
be  divine.  The  other  argument  is  this  :  if  the  prophecies  have 
been  fulfilled  (of  which  there  is  abundant  demonstration),  the 
Scripture  must  be  the  word  of  God ;  and  if  the  Scripture  is  the 
word  of  God,  Christianity  must  be  true." 

After  the  date  of  the  poem  we  have  just  been  considering,  the 
infirmities  of  old  age  rendered  him  incapable  of  any  similar  efforts, 
or  of  any  important  duty  ;  and  it  is  said  that  he  suffered  himself  to 
be  guided  by  his  housekeeper,  Mrs.  Hallows,  whose  ascendency  in 
his  family  became  the  subject  of  ridicule,  more  ill-natured  than 
witty,  in  a  novel,  published  in  17.55,  called  "The  Card;"  she  being 
described  under  the  name  of  Mrs.  Fusby,  while  Young  is  character- 
ized by  the  title  of  Dr.  Elwes. 

Concerning  this  person,  a  writer  in  the  "  Gentleman's  Magazine" 
informs  us  that  she  was  the  daughter  of  a  rector  of  All-Hallows, 
Hertford ;  and  that  upon  the  marriage  of  Miss  Caroline  Lee  (the 
second  daughter  of  Mrs.  Young  by  her  first  husband),  she  was  invited 
by  the  poet,  who  knew  her  family,  to  his  house  ;  that  she  had  some 
fortune  of  her  own,  perhaps  very  small,  as  her  father  left  a  large 
number  of  children  ;  that  she  was  advanced  in  years,  and  was  a 
woman  of  piety  improved  by  reading;  and  that  she  was  always 


36  LIFE    AND    CHARACTER 

treated  by  him  and  by  his  guests,  even  those  of  the  highest  rank> 
with  the  politeness  and  respect  due  to  a  gentlewoman. 

In  the  same  magazine  are  found  several  letters  of  Mr.  Jones,  his 
curate  and  executor,  to  a  friend  in  London,  which  furnish  the  infor- 
mation we  now  proceed  to  give  of  the  closing  years  of  his  life. 

The  first  bears  date  at  Welwyn  of  July  25,  1762,  and  says: — 
"  The  old  gentleman  here  seems  to  me  to  be  in  a  pretty  odd  way  of 
late,  moping,  dejected,  self-willed,  and  as  if  surrounded  with  some 
perplexing  circumstances.  There  is  much  mystery  in  almost  ah  his 
temporal  affairs,  as  well  as  in  many  of  his  speculative  opinions. 
There  is  thought  to  be  an  irremovable  obstruction  to  his  happiness 
within  his  walls,  as  well  as  another  without  them  :  but  the  former  is 
the  more  powerful  and  likely  to  continue  so.  He  has  this  day  been 
trying  anew  to  engage  me  to  stay  with  him.  No  lucrative  views 
can  tempt  me  to  sacrifice  my  fiber ty  or  my  health  to  such  measures 
as  are  proposed  here." 

The  next  extract  is  from  a  letter,  dated  August  28,  1762.  "I 
privately  mentioned  to  you  that  the  Doctor  is  in  many  respects  a 
very  unhappy  man.  If  he  would  be  advised  by  some  who  wish  him 
well,  he  might  be  happy,  though  his  state  of  health  is  lately  much 
altered  for  the  worse."  The  next  letter,  dated  January  1,  1763, 
states  that  "  the  mismanagement,  too  well  known,  unhappily  con- 
tinues, and,  still  more  unhappily,  seems  to  be  increasing,  to  the  grief 
of  friends,  and  to  the  ridicule  of  others,  not  a  few.  Penuriousness 
and  obstinacy  are  two  bad  things ;  and  a  disregard  to  the  general 
judgment  and  friendly  wishes  of  the  wiser  part  of  mankind,  another. 
There  seems  to  be  no  hope,  so  long  as  the  ascendency  is  so  great." 

Under  date  of  September  4,  1764,  Mr.  Jones  thus  writes :  "M\ 
ancient  gentleman  here  is  still  full  of  troubles,  which  moves  my  con 
cern,  though  it  moves  only  the  secret  laughter  of  many,  and  some 
untoward  surmises  in  disfavor  of  himself  and  his  household.  The 
loss  of  a  very  large  sum  of  money,  £200,  is  talked  of,  whereof  this 
vill  (village)  and  neighborhood  are  full.  Some  disbelieve  ;  others  say 
it  is  no  wonder,  where  about  eighteen  or  more  servants  are  some- 
times taken  in  and  dismissed  in  the  course  of  a  year.  The  gentle- 
man himself  is  allowed  by  all  to  be  more  harmless  and  easy  in  bis 
family  than  some  one  else,  who  hath  too  much  the  lead  in  it." 


OF    EDWARD    YOI'NG,    LL.D.  37 

In  a  letter  of  April  2d,  17G5,  he  communicates  an  account,  in 
part,  of  his  last  illness  :  stating  that  he  endured  pains  s,o  severe  as  to 
require  strong  and  frequent  opiates;  that  Mrs.  Hallows  had  that 
morning  sent  for  the  son  of  Dr.  Young  to  attend  him  in  his  illness  ; 
that  this  son  had  in  some  way  provoked  the  displeasure  of  his  father, 
and  that  all  social  intercourse  between  them  had  heen  suspend  d  : 
that  when  the  father  was  applied  to  for  permission  to  grant  him  an 
interview  it  was  declined.  "I  heartily  wish,"  says  Mr.  Jones,  "the 
ancient  man's  heart  may  grow  tender  towards  the  son,  though 
knowing  him  so  well,  I  can  scarce  hope  to  hear  such  desirable 
news."  Another  writer  states  that  this  alienation  arose  from  some 
irregularities  of  the  son  at  college,  on  account  of  which  he  had  been 
expelled. 

We  learn,  however,  from  Boswell  that,  according  to  Dr.  Johnson, 
the  cause  of  the  quarrel  between  the  father  and  son  was  this  : — the 
latter  insisted  that  the  housekeeper  should  be  turned  away,  as  in  his 
judgment  she  had  acquired  an  undue  influence  over  his  aged  father, 
and  was  saucy  to  himself.  The  old  lady  could  not  conceal  her 
resentment  against  him  for  saying  to  his  father  that  an  old  man 
should  not  resign  himself  to  the  management  of  anybody. 

The  next  letter,  dated  Welwyn,  April  13th,  1765,  bears  the  intel- 
ligence of  Dr.  Young's  decease  on  the  5th.  "  I  have  now  the  plea- 
sure to  acquaint  you  that  the  late  Dr.  Young,  though  he  had 
for  many  years  kept  his  son  at  a  distance,  yet  has  now,  at  last,  left 
him  all  his  possessions,  after  the  payment  of  certain  legacies :  so  that 
the  young  gentleman,  who  bears  a  fair  character,  and  behaves  well 
as  far  as  I  can  hear  or  see,  will,  I  hope,  soon  enjoy,  and  make  a  pru- 
dent use  of  a  very  handsome  fortune.  The  father,  on  his  death-bed, 
and  since  my  return  from  London,  was  applied  to,  in  the  tenderest 
manner,  by  one  of  the  physicians  and  by  another  person,  to  admit 
the  son  into  his  presence  to  make  submission,  to  ask  forgiveness,  and 
to  obtain  his  blessing.  As  to  an  interview  with  his  son,  he  inti- 
mated that  he  chose  to  decline  it.  as  his  spirits  were  then  low,  and 
his  nerves  weak.  With  regard  to  the  next  particular,  he  said, — '  I 
heartily  forgive  him  ;'  and,  upon  mention  of  the  last,  he  slowly  lifted 
up  Ins  hand,  and  gently  letting  it  fall,  pronounced  these  words, 
4  God  bless  him !'     After  about  a  fortnight's  illness,   and  bearing 


38  LIFE    AND    CHARACTER. 

excessive  pain,  he  expired  in  the  night  of  Good  Friday  last,  the  5th 
inst.,  and  was  decently  buried  yesterday,  about  six  in  the  afternoon, 
in  the  chancel  of  this  church,  close  by  the  remains  of  his  lady,  under 
the  communion  table.  The  clergy,  who  are  the  trustees  of  his  cha 
rity  school,  and  one  or  two  more,  attending  the  funeral,  the  last  office 
at  interment  being  performed  by  me." 

In  the  Doctor's  will,  Mr.  Jones  was  remembered,  and  in  testimony 
of  respect  for  the  manner  in  which  he  had  discharged  his  duties  to 
the  parish,  a  handsome  legacy  was  bequeathed  to  him.  Another 
legacy,  to  the  amount  of  £1,000,  was  ordered  for  his  housekeeper; 
a  sum  that  was  thought  to  be  not  more  than  what  was  due  to  one 
whom  he  had  never  degraded  by  paying  wages.  The  only  remain- 
ing legacy  was  left  to  "  his  friend,  Henry  Stephens,  a  hatter  at  the 
Temple  Gate. 

In  his  will,  which  bore  the  date  of  February,  1760,  he  desires  of 
his  executors,  in  a  particular  manner,  that  all  his  manuscript  books 
and  writings  whatever,  might  be  burned,  except  his  book  of  accounts. 
In  a  codicil,  dated  September,  1*764,  he  made  it  his  dying  entreaty 
to  his  housekeeper,  "  that  all  his  manuscripts  might  be  destroyed 
as  soon  as  he  was  dead,  which  would  greatly  oblige  her  deceased 
friend?  These  last  injunctions  were  not  strictly  complied  with.  It 
is  much  to  be  regretted  that  such  injunctions  were  made  at  all. 

An  inquiry  is  here  naturally  suggested,  as  to  the  maimer  in  which 
Dr.  Young  usually  disposed  of  his  income.  It  has  been  hinted 
already  that  he  not  seldom  descended  to  flattery  of  the  great,  with  a 
view  perhaps  to  improve  his  pecuniary  resources  ;  and  that  his 
receipts  at  times  were  large  from  the  productions  of  his  pen.  The 
income  of  the  rectory,  moreover,  was  quite  considerable.  It  is  said 
that  he  lived  at  a  moderate  expense,  rather  inclining  to  parsimony 
than  profusion  ;  and  that  he  annually  made  use  of  little  more  than 
half  his  income.  Yet  we  have  reason  to  believe  that  he  employed 
an  honorable  share  of  it  in  answering  the  claims  of  humanity  and 
religion,  for  it  is  the  testimony  of  Dr.  Warton  that  he  was  one  of 
the  mjst  amiable  and  benevolent  of  men. 

"The  same  humility,"  says  a  biographer,  "  which  had  marked  a 
hatter  and  a  housekeeper  for  his  friends,  had  before  bestowed  the 
same  title  upon  his  footman,  in  an  epitaph  in  Welwyn  church-yard, 


OF    EDWARD    YOUNG,    I.I..D.  39 

upon  James  Barker,  dated  l^G."  This  epitaph  seems  worthy  of 
insertion  in  this  place,  as  it  serves  to  illustrate  favorably  the  charac- 
ter and  genius  of  its  author. 

"  If  fond  of  what  is  rare,  attend  ! 
Here  lies  an  honest  man, 

Of  perfect  piety, 

Of  lamb-like  patience, 

My  friend.  James  Barker ; 

To  whom  I  pay  this  mean  memorial, 

For  what  deserves  the  greatest. 

An  example 

Which  shone  through  all  the  clouds  of  fortune, 

Industrious  in  low  estate, 

The  lesson  and  reproach  of  those  above  him. 

To  lay  this  little  stone 

Is  my  ambition ; 

While  others  rear 

The  polished  marbles  of  the  great. 

Vain  pomp ! 

A  turf  o'er  virtue  charms  us  more. 

E.  Y.  1749. 

It  is  somewhat  singular  that  he  who  could  write  so  beautiful  an 
epitaph  for  an  humble  friend  and  domestic,  should  have  withheld  the 
preparation  of  a  fitting  memorial  of  his  lamented  wife.  We  know 
not  how  to  account  for  it,  unless  Ave  suppose  that  he  regarded  the 
affectionate  allusion  to  her  decease,  in  the  "  Night  Thoughts,"  a  suf- 
ficient testimony  of  his  grief,  and  of  his  remembrance  of  her. 

His  own  epitaph,  and  that  of  his  wife,  was  written  by  his  surviv- 
ing aud  only  son,  Frederick ;  and  inscribed  upon  a  monument 
erected  by  him  in  Welwyn  church.     It  reads  thus : — 

M.  S. 

Optimi   Parentis 

Edvardi  Young,  LL.D 

Hnjus  Ecclesiae  Rect. 

Et  Elizabethse 

Foem-  prasnob. 

Conjugis  ejus  amantissimae, 

Pio  et  gratissimo  animo 


40  LIFE    AND    CHARACTER 

Hoc  marmor  posuit 
F.  Y. 

Filius  superstes. 

As  we  read  this  brief  and  simple  memorial,  we  are  reminded  of 
those  impressive  lines  of  the  gifted  and  eloquent  poet,  in  whose 
interment  and  epitaph  they  are  exactly  verified. 

"  What  though  we  wade  in  wealth,  or  soar  in  fame  ! 
Earth's  highest  station  ends  in  '  Here  he  lies !' 
And  'Dust  to  dust'  concludes  her  noblest  song !" 

While,  in  the  death  of  Edward  Young,  the  republic  of  letters  sus- 
tained no  common  loss,  we  feel  disappointment  and  grief  that  it  cre- 
ated apparently  but  a  feeble  sensation  in  the  British  kingdom.  Dods- 
ley's  Annual  Register  for  1*765  thus  records  the  fact  and  the  ante- 
cedent circumstances.  Age,  that  impairs  the  faculties  of  the  ordinary 
race  of  men,  only  seemed  to  light  up  his  fire,  and  almost  to  the  last 
his  powers  grew  stronger.  Such,  however,  was  his  fate,  that  towards 
the  latter  part  of  his  life  he  was  but  little  talked  of ;  a  manifest 
instance  that  when  any  man,  how  great  soever,  resolves  to  forsake 
the  world,  the  world  is  willing  enough  to  leave  him.  Our  celebrated 
poet  might,  with  great  truth,  say  of  himself,  that  he  had  been  so 
long  remembered  he  tvas  forgotten  ;  he  even  seemed  to  fall  unwept 
of  the  Muses,  and  while  all  Grub  street  was  in  mourning  at  the 
death  of  a  much  inferior  genius,  he  passed  as  silent  to  the  grave  as 
piety  or  modesty  could  wish. 

It  gives  us  pain,  and  almost  enkindles  our  indignation,  that  a 
man  of  genius  and  of  world-wide  celebrity,  as  Dr.  Young  was, 
should  have  been  borne  to  his  grave  in  the  most  private  mamier 
possible,  and  with  scarcely  the  most  ordinary  outward  demonstra- 
tions of  respect  for  his  memory.  Though  he  was  the  founder,  and 
had  been  the  munificent  patron  of  a  charity  school  in  his  own 
parish,  neither  master  nor  scholars  were  present  at  his  funeral.  The 
clerical  trustees  of  the  school,  and  but  one  or  two  other  individuals 
were  the  only  mourners  visible  on  that  occasion.  It  seems  difficult 
to  account  for  such  shameful  neglect.  Either  the  community  among 
whom  he  had  passed  more  than  thirty  years  of  his  life  must  have 


OF    EDWARD    \UUNG,    LL.D.  41 

been  a  very  stupid  one,  or  the  decease  of  the  aged  and  venerable 
poet  must  have  been  studiously  concealed  from  them. 

In  presenting  a  general  view  of  the  character  of  Dr.  Young, 
assisted  by  the  brief  and  scattered  notices  of  him  which  history  has 
preserved,  we  may  first  mention,  as  very  prominent,  that  melan- 
choly disposition  which  is  usually  characteristic  of  poetic  genius,  but 
which,  as  in  Cowper  and  Henry  Kirke  White,  and  others,  occasion- 
ally alternated  with  a  gay  and  buoyant  frame  of  mind.  The  melan- 
choly temperament  caused  him  in  his  solitary  walks  to  select  the 
church-yard  in  preference  to  a  more  cheering  scene :  and  also  to 
prefer  a  solitary  to  a  social  ramble.  While  he  excelled  in  conversa- 
tion and  occasionally  indulged  in  mirth  and  lively  satire,  he  loved  to 
meditate  for  hours  in  uninterrupted  solitude.  Nor  is  this  surprising 
when  we  discover  the  admirable  results  of  those  meditative  hours. 
They  must  have  proved  hours  of  the  richest  luxury. 

The  turn  of  his  mind  (says  the  Annual  Register)  was  naturally 
solemn  ;  and  he  usually,  when  at  home  in  the  country,  spent  many 
hours  of  the  day  walking  in  his  own  church-yard  among  the  tombs. 
His  conversation,  his  writings,  had  all  a  reference  to  the  life  after 
this  ;  and  this  turn  of  disposition  mixed  itself  even  with  his  improve- 
ments in  gardening.  He  had,  for  instance,  an  alcove  painted  as  if 
with  a  bench  to  repose  on.  Upon  coming  up  near  it,  however,  the 
deception  was  perceived,  and  this  motto  appeared  : — 

"  Invisibilia  non  decipiunt," 

the  meaning  of  which  is, — "  The  things  unseen  do  not  deceive  us." 
Yet,  notwithstanding  this  gloominess  of  temper,  he  was  fond  of  inno- 
cent sports  and  amusements :  he  instituted  an  assembly  and  a  bowl- 
ing green  in  the  parish  of  which  he  was  rector,  and  often  promoted 
the  gaiety  of  the  company  in  person.  His  wit  was  generally 
piquant,  and  ever  levelled  at  those  who  testified  any  contempt  for 
decency  and  religion. 

His  melancholy  turn  of  mind  is  further  discovered  in  a  passage  in 
one  of  his  earliest  poems,  "  The  Last  Day,"  where  he  denominates 
his  muse  "  The  Melancholy  Maid," 

i;  Whom  dismal  scenes  delight, 
Frequent  at  tombs,  and  in  the  realms  of  night." 


42  LIFE    AND    CHARACTER 

But  his  melancholy  was  so  modified  by  science,  philosophy,  and  reli 
gion,  that  it  was  never  allowed  to  infringe  upon  the  sober  duties  and 
realities  of  life.  It  did  not  render  him  indifferent  to  the  interests 
and    welfare    of    society.     He    appeared   among   his    acquaintance 

"neither  as  a  man  of  sorrow,'1  nor  yet  as  "  a  fellow  of  infinite  jest." 
We  are  informed  that  the  dignity  of  a  great  and  good  man  appeared 
in  all  his  actions  and  in  all  his  words  ;  that  when  he  conversed  on 
religious  subjects  his  manner  was  cheerful  and  happy;  that,  as  in  his 
writings,  death,  futurity,  judgment,  and  the  everlasting  state  were 
his  common  topics.  His  piety  was  neither  enthusiastic  nor  gloomy. 
In  the  performance  of  all  the  public  and  private  duties  of  religion 
he  was  regular  and  constant. 

It  may  aid  us,  perhaps,  in  discovering  the  lights  and  shades  of 
Young's  character  to  introduce  some  shrewd  observations  of  Beattie, 
the  sweet  poet  of  Scotland.     He  says  : — 

"  When  I  first  read  Young  my  heart  was  broken  to  think  of  the 
poor  man's  afflictions.  Afterwards  I  took  it  into  my  head  that 
where  there  was  so  much  lamentation  there  could  not  be  excessive 
suffering ;  and  I  could  not  help  applying  to  him  sometimes  these 
lines  of  a  song, 

"  Believe  me  the  shepherd  but  fayns 
He's  wretched  to  show  he  has  wit." 

On  talking  with  some  of  Dr.  Young's  friends  in  England,  I  have 
since  found  that  my  conjectures  were  right ;  for  that  while  he  was 
composing  the  "  Night  Thoughts"  he  was  really  as  cheerful  as  any 
other  man." 

A  satisfactory  explanation  of  this  apparent  incongruity  we  have 
found  in  Boswell's  Life  of  Johnson,  in  the  account  which  he  fur- 
nishes of  an  interview  had  by  himself  and  Dr.  J.  with  the  son  of 
Dr.  Young  at  the  old  homestead  after  the  decease  of  his  father. 
Boswell  having  observed  to  Mr.  Young  that  he  had  been  informed 
that  his  father  was  a  cheerful  man,  the  latter  answered  : — "  Sir,  he 
was  too  well-bred  a  man  not  to  bo  cheerful  in  company,  but  he  was 
gloom v  when  alone.  He  never  was  cheerful  after  my  mother's 
death,  and  he  had  met  with  many  disappointments." 

An  instance  at  once  of  his  pensive  turn  of  mind  and  his  cheerful- 


Of    1CDWARD    YOUNG,    LL.D.  43 

ucsj  of  temper  in  society  is  found  in  a  playful  incident  which  he 
related  to  a  friend  "when  walking  in  his  garden.  "Here,"  said  he, 
"  I  had  put  a  handsome  sun-dial  with  this  inscription  Eheufugaces! 
which  (speaking  with  a  smile)  was  sadly  and  promptly  verified,  for 
by  the  next  morning  my  dial  had  been  earned  off." 

In  his  domestic  and  private  character  he  was  as  amiable,  as  in  his 
•us  character  he  was  venerable.  One  who  knew  him  inti- 
mately gives  us  this  interesting  account  of  him  : — "  Ilis  politeness 
was  such  as  I  never  saw  equalled  :  it  was  invariable.  To  his  supe- 
riors in  rank,  to  his  equals,  and  to  his  inferiors,  it  differed  only  in 
the  degrees  of  elegance.  I  never  heard  him  speak  with  roughness 
to  his  meanest  servant :  yet  he  well  knew  how  to  keep  up  his  dig- 
nity, and,  with  all  the  majesty  of  superior  worth,  to  repress  the  bold 
and  the  forward.  In  conversation  upon  lively  subjects,  he  had  a 
brilliancy  of  wit  which  was  peculiar  to  himself.  I  know  not  how  to 
describe  it,  but  by  saying,  that  it  was  both  heightened  and  softened 
by  the  great  and  the  amiable  qualities  of  his  soul.  I  have  seen 
him  ill  and  in  pain,  yet  the  serenity  of  his  mind  remained  unruffled. 
I  never  heard  a  peevish  expression  fall  from  his  lips  ;  nor  was  he, 
at  such  times,  less  kindly  and  politely  attentive  to  those  around 
him,  than  when  in  the  company  of  strangers,  who  came  only  to 
visit  him  for  the  first  time." 

A  similar  testimony  is  borne  to  him  as  a  man  and  a  companion, 
by  Dr.  Warton,  who  knew  him  well.  He  describes  him  as  one  of 
the  most  amiable  and  benevolent  of  men ;  most  exemplary  in  his 
life  and  sincere  in  his  religion ;  in  conversation  none  said  more  bril- 
liant things.  Lord  Melcombej  who  was  an  excellent  judge  of  wit 
and  humour,  says  that  when  Young  and  Voltaire  visited  him  at 
Eastbury,  the  English  poet  was  far  superior  to  the  French  in  the 
variety  and  novelty  of  his  bons  mots  and  repartees.  Tscharner,  a 
noble  foreigner,  having  «pent  four  days  with  Dr.  Young,  in  a  letter 
to  Count  Haller,  states  that,  at  Welwyn,  the  author  tastes  all  the 
ease  and  pleasure  man  can  desire  ;  that  everything  about  him  shows 
the  man,  each  individual  being  placed  by  rule ;  that  all  is  neat, 
without  art ;  that  he  is  very  agreeable  in  conversation,  and  extreme- 
ly polite. 

His  well  known  epigram  on  Voltaire  may  here  be  quoted  as  an 


44  LIFE    AND    CHARACTER 

instance  of  his  indulgence  in  the  sallies  of  wit,  though  it  may  be 
regarded  also  as  an  example  of  his  habitual  indignation  against 
indecency  and  irreligion.  These  were  ever  condemned  in  unmea- 
sured tones  by  his  satiric  muse.  Voltaire,  when  in  England,  had,  in 
his  presence,  ridiculed  Milton's  allegory  of  Sin  and  Death ;  upon 
which  Young,  jealous  of  the  reputation  of  his  countryman,  extem- 
poraneously replied : — 

"  Thou  art  so  witty,  profligate,  and  thin, 
Thou  seem'st  a  Milton  with  his  Death  and  Sin." 

His  satires  abound  in  similar  effusions  of  wit  and  humour,  directed 
against  the  folly  of  being  devoted  to  Fashion,  and  of  aiming  to 
appear  what  we  are  not.  Some  selections  will  serve  to  illustrate  our 
author's  aptitude  for  creating  this  kind  of  entertainment. 

"  The  Court  affords 
Much  food  for  satire :  it  abounds  in  lords, 
'  What  lords  are  those  saluting  with  a  grin?' 
One  is  just  out,  and  one  as  lately  in. 
1  How  comes  it  then  to  pass  we  see  preside 
On  both  their  brows  an  equal  share  of  pride  ?' 
Pride,  that  impartial  passion,  reigns  through  ali. 
Attends  our  glory,  nor  deserts  our  fall." 

Speaking  of  some  who  strive  to  appear  gay  and  happy,  through 
the  impulses  of  ambition,  while  their  real  circumstances  in  life 
prompt  far  other  feelings,  he  says  : — 


"  Hence  aching  bosoms  wear  a  visage  gay, 
And  stilled  groans  frequent  the  ball  and  play. 
Completely  dup'd  by  Monteuil  and  grimace. 
They  take  their  birth-Jay  suit,  and  public  face: 
Their  smiles  are  only  part  of  what  they  wear, 
Put  off  at  night  with  Lady  Bristol's  hair. 
What  bodily  fatigue  is  half  so  bad  ? 
With  anxious  care  they  labor  to  be  glad." 

The  low  and  unintellectual  partialities  of  some   men  are    thus 
characterized  : — 

"  The  dunghill-breed  of  men  a  diamond  scorn 
And  feel  a  passion  for  a  grain  of  com  : — 


OF    EDWARD    YOUNG,    LL.D.  45 

Some  stupid,  plodding,  money-loving  wight, 

"Who  wins  their  hearts  by  knowing  black  from  white, 

Who  with  much  pains,  exerting  all  his  sense, 

Can  range  aright  his  shillings,  pounds,  and  pence." 

Extravagant  professions  of  love,  in  courtship,  are  thus  satirised. 

"  Phillis  and  her  Damon  met. 
Eternal  love  exactly  hits  her  taste  : 
Phillis  demands  eternal  love  at  least. 
Embracing  Phillis  with  soft-smiling  eyes. 
Eternal  love  I  vow  the  swain  replies  : 
But  say,  my  all,  my  mistress  and  my  friend! 
What  day  next  week  th'  eternity  shall  end?''' 

Of  the  fair  sex  he  produces  several  sketches  which  abound  in  wit 
and  humor.     We  have  space  for  only  two  or  three. 

"  Lemira's  sick  ;  make  haste ;  the  doctor  call : 
He  comes ;  but,  where's  his  patient  ?  at  the  ball. 
The  doctor  stares ;  her  woman  curtsies  low, 
And  cries,  '  My  lady,  sir,  is  always  so  : 
Diversions  put  her  maladies  to  flight ; 
True  she  can't  stand,  but  she  can  dance  all  night. 
I've  known  my  lady  (for  she  loves  a  tune) 
For  fevers  take  an  opera  in  June  : 
And,  though  perhaps  you'll  think  the  practice  bold, 
A  midnight  park  is  sovereign  for  a  cold : 
With  colics  breakfasts  of  green  fruit  agree ; 
With  indigestions,  supper  just  at  three.' 
A  strange  alternative,  replies  Sir  Hans, 
Must  women  have  a  doctor  or  a  dance  ? 
Though  sick  to  death,  abroad  they  safely  roam, 
But  droop  and  die,  in  perfect  health,  at  home: 
For  want — but  not  of  health,  are  ladies  ill ; 
And  tickets  cure  beyond  the  doctor's  bill  " 

"  Fair  Isabella  is  so  fond  of  fame, 
That  her  dear  self  is  her  eternal  theme  : 
Through  hopes  of  contradiction  oft  she'll  say 
Methinks  I  look  so  wretchedly  to-day  !'  " 

The  only  apology  for  occupying  so  much  space  with  the  foregoing 
quotations  is  the  desire  to  convey  to  those  who  have  not  lead  his 


46  LIFE    AND    CHARACTER 

Satires,  a  just  impression  of  the  mental  constitution  of  Dr.  Young, 
exhibiting  at  different  times,  and  in  different  productions  of  his 
genius,  the  opposite  traits  of  gaiety  and  melancholy,  the  lights  and 
shades  of  thought.  He  was  not  all  gloom  :  nor  did  he  always 
confine  his  thoughts  to  grave,  serious,  spiritual,  eternal  themes. 
When  it  was  allowable  to  be  gay  and  sprightly :  when  the  topic  of 
oral  or  written  discussion  permitted,  none  could  be  more  gay  and 
humorous  ;  but  when  he  turned  his  meditations,  or  employed  his  con- 
versational powers,  or  his  pen,  upon  those  themes  of  great  and  awfuj 
moment  which  are  discussed  in  his  immortal  "  Night  Thoughts," 
he  is  not  to  be  charged  with  melancholy,  or  enthusiasm,  or  misan 
thropy,  because  he  speaks  in  language  of  most  impressive  serious- 
ness, and  often  of  thrilling  pathos.  He  only  adapts  his  language 
and  his  sentiments  to  the  subject  before  him ;  and  those  subjects, 
though  not  agreeable  to  the  gay  and  thoughtless,  are  nevertheless 
subjects  with  which  it  is  the  highest  interest  of  all  to  make  them- 
selves familiarly  and  practically  acquainted.  His  primary  object  in 
this  Poem,  as  is  apparent  from  the  title,  (The  Complaint,)  was  to 
portray  the  evils  of  life,  and  of  course  it  must  be  allowed  to  employ 
strains  of  a  sombre  character.  But  it  abounds  in  other  pictures 
besides  the  dark  and  the  sad — pictures  upon  which  beams  with 
unearthly  splendor,  the  light  introduced  from  the  upper  world,  so 
that  we  are  attracted  heaven-ward  as  a  relief  from  the  sorrows  of 
Earth.  He  never  so  paints  the  adversities  of  this  life  as  to  justify 
discontent,  or  attach  blame  to  Divine  Providence,  or  engender  an 
oppressive  melancholy. 

As  a  preacher,  the  only  anecdote  recorded  of  him  does  honour  to 
his  conscientiousness  and  sensibility ;  to  his  just  appreciation  of  the 
value  of  the  truth  he  was  presenting,  and  the  momentous  impor- 
tance of  its  being  solemnly  listened  to  by  those  who  attended  on 
his  ministry.  It  is  reported,  that  while  he  was  discharging  the 
duties  of  his  sacred  office  at  the  Royal  Chapel,  he  found  on  one 
occasion,  that  his  most  strenuous  endeavours  to  render  his  audience 
attentive  were  unavailing  ;  upon  which,  his  pity  for  their  guilt  and 
folly  so  prevailed  over  the  dictates  of  decorum,  that  he  abruptly 
resumed  his  seat  in  the  pulpit,  and  burst  into  a  flood  of  tears. 

It  will  be  seen   in   the  Notes  on   Night  VII.,  that   we  have  been 


OF    EDWARD    HilMt,    LL.D,  47 

obliged  to  utter  our  dissent  from  some  of  his  theological  views  on 
the  subject  of  Virtue,  and  its  rewards,  and  in  other  places  to  expose 
some  errors  into  which  Ave  think  he  has  fallen.  We  are  happy, 
however,  to  admit  here  an  apology  which  we  have  fallen  in  with, 
which  may  account  for  some  of  the  erroneous  statements  he  has 
made,  raid  furnish  us  with  a  convenient  principle  of  interpretation 
which  it  may  be  useful  to  adopt.  The  apology  is  this: — The  im- 
iued  character  of  poetry  is  very  apt  to  lead  the  head  into  error 
of  some  kind.  His  imagination  may  carry  him  beyond  the  point 
of  sober  truth.  He  is  in  danger  of  overcharging  his  descriptions, 
and  imparting  a  fanciful  air  to  his  sentiments.  He  may  be  tempted, 
for  the  sake  of  exciting  the  reader's  mind  by  means  of  novelty,  or 
with  a  view  to  give  his  lines  an  epigrammatic  smartness  to  indulge 
in  paradox  or  exaggeration.  The  precise  shade  of  thought  intended 
to  be  expressed  is  sometimes  rendered  difficult  by  the  fetters  of 
metre  or  of  rhyme.  These  incidental  aberrations  should  not  be  too 
harshly  judged ;  although  there  may  be  others  of  a  more  serious 
nature  for  which  the  heart  of  the  writer  must  be  responsible. 

The  same  writer  (in  the  Christian  Spectator)  has  furnished  some 
other  excellent  remarks,  upon  the  religious  character  of  Dr.  Young's 
poetry,  which  we  will  here  adopt.  The  poet  dwells  less  on  the 
experience  than  the  theory  of  religion,  though  there  are  not  wanting 
in  him  some  happy  delineations  of  the  internal  operations  of  grace. 
The  renewal  of  genuine  piety  since  the  time  of  our  poet,  and 
especially  from  the  commencement  of  the  present  century,  has  been 
highly  propitious  to  the  production  of  a  purely  religious  poetry  ;  still  it 
is  no  small  praise,  that  although  religious  poetry  in  the  hands  of  the 
author  of  the  "  Night  Thoughts"  is  not  all  which  it  might  be,  in  d-ep 
practical  and  experimental  views,  it  has  notwithstanding  so  high  a 
character  for  seriousness  and  truth,  and  embodies  so  many  essential 
principles  of  Christianity,  expressed  in  the  liveliest  imagery  and 
with  classical  grace.  It  is  perhaps  a  fault  with  Young  in  respect  to 
the  religion  (or  rather  the  religious  influence)  of  his  poetry,  that 
while  it  impresses  the  mind  with  a  "-eneral  and  salutary  thoughtful- 
ness.  it  does  not  often  create  any  signal  alarm  in  the  sinner's  con- 
science, or  exhibit  the  truth  in  such  a  manner  as  to  wrench  from  his 
grasp  the  idolized  objects  of  this  world,  and  subdue  his  spirit,  into 


48  LIFE    AND    CHARACTER 

penitence.  It  seems  fitted  rather  to  convince  the  speculative  infidel 
of  the  truth  of  religion,  and  to  make  the  serious  more  serious,  than 
powerfully  to  move  the  feelings  of  irreligious  persons  in  respect  to 
their  immortal  concerns.  We  can  easily  conceive  that  an  ungodly 
man  may  escape  from  the  really  important  views  and  well-intended 
expostulations  in  the  "  Night  Thoughts"  with  only  a  love  of  melan- 
choly or  an  admiration  of  genius.  This  effect,  whenever  it  takes 
place,  must  he  owing  less,  we  think,  to  the  author's  theology,  than 
to  the  splendor  of  his  language  and  the  care  with  which  he  has 
labored  his  periods.  It  is  too  much  like  the  effect  of  that  preaching 
which,  in  describing  the  general  judgment,  for  instance,  aims  at 
brilliant  language  and  striking  figures — gracefully  takes  down  the 
pillars  of  the  creation,  and  employs  our  own  poet's  "swift  arch- 
angel" who 

1:  With  his  golden  wing 
As  blots  end  clouds,  that  darken  and  disgrace 
The  scene  divine,  sweeps  stars  and  suns  aside." 

The  only  notices  which  we  can  find  of  his  habits  as  a  student 
are  very  brief,  yet  not  devoid  of  interest.  In  reading  a  book,  when 
a  passage  pleased  him,  he  was  accustomed  to  turn  down  the  leaf 
that  he  might  give  those  passages  a  second  reading.  Many  volumes, 
it  is  said,  had  so  many  leaves  folded  down  as  not  to  admit  of  being 
shut.  After  his  death  they  were  found  in  this  condition ;  thus 
showing  that  human  schemes  are  often  doomed  to  remain  but  par- 
tially accomplished. 

At  the  table  he  practised  great  moderation ;  and  in  the  evening, 
after  a  slight  refreshment,  he  retired  as  early  as  eight  o'clock,  even 
though  he  might  have  guests  at  his  house,  who  of  course  would 
desire  his  company  to  a  later  hotir.  It  is  said  that  after  his  first 
sleep  he  passed  the  greater  part  of  the  night  in  meditation,  and  in 
the  composition  of  his  works. 

He  himself  says,  in  the  last  book  of  the  "  Night  Thoughts"— 

These  thoughts,  O  Night,  are  thine : 


From  thee  they  came,  like  lovers'  secret  sighs, 
While  others  slept." 


Of     EDWARD    700KG,    Lh.V.  49 

When  he  rose  from  his  bed,  which  was  generally  at  a  very  early 
hour,  his  thoughts  were  so  well  digested  and  arranged  in  his  mind, 
that  he  had  no  more  to  do  than  to  commit  them  to  paper. 

We  add  that  he  must  have  cultivated  the  same  intensity  of 
thought  as  that  winch  Milton,  on  account  of  his  blindness,  was 
obliged  to  exercise  in  preparing  his  larger  poems.  Every  page  of 
the  "JSight  Thoughts"  bears  the  clearest  evidence  of  originating 
from  a  process  of  most  elaborate  and  careful  meditation.  To  this 
we  may  ascribe  the  wonderful  condensation  of  thought  which  that 
poem  exhibits ;  those  priceless  gems  which  are  scattered  through  it ; 
those  aphoristic  sentences  of  compressed  wisdom  and  piety,  which 
have  been  drawn  from  it  and  transferred  widely  into  our  popular 
literature  and  conversation.  It  not  only  evinces  thought  in  tho 
author,  but,  to  understand,  and  appreciate,  and  digest  what  he  has 
composed,  the  reader  is  required  to  exercise  no  small  energy,  and 
close  application,  of  thought.  Dr.  Young  was  pre-eminently  a  man 
of  thought ;  he  was  an  ingenious,  subtile,  and  powerful  reasoner ; 
lie  possessed  a  luxuriant  though  undisciplined  imagination — more 
vigorous  than  accurate  ;  more  bold  than  tasteful.  He  was  a  close 
observer  of  men  and  manners,  for  which  the  best  of  opportunities 
had  been  enjoyed  and  not  negligently  improved.  The  workings 
of  the  human  heart  also,  he  often  sketches  with  great  fidelity  to 
nature. 

But  remarks  of  this  kind  may  be  comprehended  more  advanta- 
geously, in  the  account  which  is  to  be  subjoined  of  the  leading 
characteristics  of  the  author's  numerous  productions.  It  will  confirm 
much  of  what  we  have  said,  to  close  our  account  of  him,  by  intro- 
ducing a  few  fines  of  respect  and  esteem  which  were  addressed  to 
liim  by  his  learned  friend,  Dr.  Warton. 

"  But  tell  me,  oh  !  what  heavenly  pleasure  tell, 
To  think  so  greatly,  and  describe  so  well ! 
How  wast  thou  pleased  the  wondrous  theme  to  try, 
And  find  the  thought  of  man  could  rise  so  high! 
Beyond  this  world  the  labour  to  pursue, 
And  open  all  eternity  to  view  ! 

But  thou  art  best  delighted  to  rehearse 
Heaven's  holy  dictates  in  exalted  verse  : 
3 


50  LIFE  AND  CHARACTER  OF  DR.  YOUNG. 

Oh,  thou  hast  power  the  harden'd  heart  to  warm, 

To  grieve,  to  raise,  to  terrify,  to  charm ; 

To  fix  the  soul  on  God  ;  to  teach  the  mind 

To  know  the  dignity  of  human  kind  ; 

By  stricter  rules  well-governed  life  to  scan, 

And  practise  o'er  the  angel  in  the  man." 


A  CRITICAL  ESTIMATE  OF  THE  WORKS  OF  DR,  YOUNG. 


Under  this  head  it  is  our  purpose,  not  so  much  to  offer  criticisms 
of  our  own,  as  to  present  to  our  readers,  generally  in  a  condensed 
form,  those  criticisms  which  we  have  found  in  various  authors,  hear- 
ing upon  this  subject ;  including  those  of  Dr.  Johnson,  in  his  Life 
of  Young. 

The  writings  of  Dr.  Young  comprise  Essays,  Plays,  and  Poems. 
As  an  essayist,  his  Centaur  not  Fabulous,  and  his  Conjectures  on 
Original  Composition  are  his  chief  productions.  Of  the  former, 
it  is  thought,  that  although  its  general  tendency  is  favourable  to  re- 
ligion and  morality,  the  pictures  it  exhibits  of  the  life  in  vogue  are 
often  overcharged,  and  the  diction,  though  sometimes  animated  and 
energetic,  is  commonly  inflated  and  affected,  or  harsh  and  severe. 
Of  the  other  work,  though  the  style  is  considered  as  vitiated  by 
affectation,  and  the  mode  of  expression  as  being  sometimes  hyperboli- 
cal, the  sentiments  frequently  are  bold,  original,  penetrating,  brilliant, 
and  sublime.  It  was  addressed,  in  the  form  of  a  letter  in  1759,  to 
Richardson,  the  author  of  Clarissa ;  and  though  he  modestly  ex- 
presses in  that  letter  his  despair  of  breaking  through  the  frozen 
obstructions  of  age,  and  care's  incumbent  cloud,  into  that  flow  of 
thought  and  brightness  of  expression,  which  subjects  so  polite  re- 
quire, yet  has  it  justly  been  pronounced  to  be  more  like  the  produc- 
tion of  untamed,  unbridled  youth,  than  of  jaded  fourscore.  In 
justification  of  this  opinion  may  be  quoted  as  a  specimen,  the  fol- 
lowing animated  passage : — 


52  A    CRITICAL    ESTIMATE    OF 

"  If  there  is  a  famine  of  invention  in  the  land,  we  must  travel, 
like  Joseph's  brethren,  far  for  food:  wc  nmst  visit  the  remote  and 
rich  ancients.  But  an  inventive  genius  may  safely  stay  at  home ; 
that,  like  the  widow's  cruse,  is  divinely  replenished  from  within,  and 
affords  us  a  miraculous  delight.  Why  should  it  seem  altogether 
impossible  that  Heaven's  latest  editions  of  the  human  mind  may  be 
the  most  correct  and  fine  ?  Jonson  was  very  learned,  as  Samson 
was  very  strong,  to  his  own  hurt.  Blind  to  the  nature  of  tragedy, 
he  pulled  down  all  antiquity  on  his  head,  and  buried  himself  under 
it." 

The  chief  design  of  this  Letter  on  Composition  was,  as  already 
stated  in  the  Memoir,  to  do  justice  to  the  exemplary  death-bed  of 
Addison,  and  to  erect  a  monumental  marble  to  the  memory  of  an 
old  friend.  Being  an  original  author  himself,  Young  therein  re- 
proaches Pope  with  being  content  with  the  honor  of  merely  trans- 
lating the  Iliad  of  Homer,  instead  of  aspiring  to  the  glory  of  giving 
a  second  Homer  to  England.  He  censures  Pope  for  his  fall  from  Ho- 
mer's numbers,  free  as  air,  lofty  and  harmonious  as  the  spheres,  into 
childish  shackles  and  tinkling  sounds  ;  also  for  putting  Achilles  into 
petticoats  a  second  time.  The  English  Homer  only  a  few  weeks 
before  his  death  (in  P744)  is  said  to  have  talked  over  an  epic  plan 
with  the  writer. 

As  a  dramatist,  he  has  not  been  successful  in  animating  the 
beauties  of  art,  with  the  energies  of  natural  fire  and  spirit.  He  is 
superior  to  his  contemporaries,  Rowe  and  Congreve,  in  strength  and 
warmth  of  conception ;  but  inferior  to  them  in  eloquence  and  neat- 
ness of  diction,  beauty  of  cadence,  correctness,  chasteness,  and  regu- 
larity. None  of  his  dramas,  except  the  "  Revenge,"  have  been 
adopted  by  the  stage.  While  they  are  animated,  brilliant,  and 
classical ;  while  they  paint,  in  glowing  language,  the  fury  of  rage 
and  revenge,  and  the  agonies  of  jealousy,  love,  and  despair ;  it  must 
be  confessed  that  they  abound  in  puerile  rant  and  conceit,  and  are 
not  without  specimens  of  fustian  and  bombast.  His  three  plays  aro 
distinguished  by  a  similar  catastrophe — that  of  suicide,  a  method 
by  which,  as  Dryden  remarked,  a  poet  easily  rids  liiscceneof  persons 
whom  lie  wants  not  to  keep  alive. 

"Of  Young's  poe ms,"  says  Dr.  Johnson,  "it  is  difficult  to  give 


WORK8    OF    UK.    VOfNi.i.  5S 

an)  general  character ;  lor  he  has  no  uniformity  of  manner ;  one  of 
his  pieces  has  no  great  resemblance  to  another.  He  began  to  write 
early,  and  continued  long;  and  at  different  times  had  different 
modes  of  poetic  excellence  in  view.  His  numbers  are  sometimes 
smooth,  and  sometimes  rugged ;  his  style  is  sometimes  concatenated 
and  sometimes  abrupt ;  sometimes  diffusive  and  sometimes  concise. 
His  plan  seems  to  have  started  into  his  mind  at  the  present  moment ; 
and  his  thoughts  appear  the  effect  of  chance,  sometimes  adverse  and 
sometimes  lucky,  with  very  little  operation  of  judgment.  He  was 
not  one  of  those  writers  whom  experience  improves,  and  who,  ob- 
serving their  own  faults,  become  gradually  correct.  His  poem  on 
the  '  Last  Day,'  his  first  great  performance,  has  an  equability  and 
propriety  which  he  afterwards  either  never  endeavoured  or  never- 
attained.  Many  paragraphs  are  noble,  and  few  arc  mean ;  yet  the 
whole  is  languid :  the  plan  is  too  much  extended,  and  a  succession 
of  images  divides  and  weakens  the  general  impression." 

As  a  poet,  his  writings  exhibit  more  fancy  than  judgment ;  more 
originality  and  invention,  than  correctness  of  taste  and  variety  and 
extent  of  knowledge.  He  possessed,  as  Addison  says  of  Lee,  true 
poetic  fire,  yet  clouded  and  obscured  by  thick  volumes  of  smoke. 
But  he  possesses  merit  of  the  highest  grade.  Though  an  unequal, 
he  is  eminently  an  original  writer ;  so  much  so,  that  the  instances 
are  very  rare  in  which  can  be  discovered  a  single  line  or  expression 
borrowed  from  any  other  English  writer.  His  defects  and  beauties 
are  alike  his  own.  Of  the  epigrammatic  style  of  his  satires  there  is 
no  example  :  nor  was  he  indebted  to  any  poet,  ancient  or  modern, 
for  the  plan  of  his  "  Night  Thoughts." 

In  lyric  compositions  he  did  not  excel.  The  general  charactei 
of  his  versification  is  that  of  harshness  and  ruggedness,  yet  many 
passages  may  be  adduced  as  beautiful  exceptions.  He  published  a 
short  essay  upon  the  structure  and  models  of  lyric  poetry  which 
abounds  in  original  and  just  observations ;  in  the  commencement 
of  which  he  says  : — "  How  imperfect  soever  my  own  composition 
may  be,  yet  am  I  willing  to  speak  a  word  or  two  of  the  nature  of 
lyric  poetry ;  to  show  that  I  have,  at  least,  some  idea  of  perfection 
in  that  kind  of  poem  in  which  I  am  engaged ;  and  that  I  do  not 
think  myself  poet  enough  entirely  to  rely  on  inspiration  for  my  sue 


54  A    CRITICAL    ESTIMATE    OF 

cess  in  it.  He  that  has  an  idea  of  perfection  in  the  work  he  under- 
takes may  fail  in  it ;  he  that  has  not,  must :  and  yet  he  will  be  vain, 
for  every  little  degree  of  beauty,  how  short  or  improper  soever,  will 
be  looked  on  fondly  by  him.  because  it  is  more  than  he  promised 
himself."  Hence  our  author  infers  that  the  poetic  class  are  more 
obnoxious  to  vanity  than  others,  from  which  emanates  that  great 
sensibility  of  disrespect,  that  quick  resentment  which  justly  marks 
them  out  for  the  "genus  irritabile"  among  mankind. 

Of  his  earlier  productions,  the  Last  Day,  Vanquished  Love,  and 
Paraphrase  on  Job,  have  deservedly  obtained  the  greatest  popu- 
larity. They  have  all  their  brighter  passages ;  particularly  the  Last 
Day,  and  the  Paraphrase.  But  many  lines  are  stiff  and  incorrect. 
The  author  in  his  too  great  care  to  fabricate  the  ornaments  of  wit 
and  thus  to  please  the  fancy,  often  sacrifices  a  more  important  object, 
mat  of  reaching  and  moulding  the  heart. 

His  Universal  Passion  (or  Satires)  was  published  before  the 
appearance  of  Pope's  satirical  epistles ;  and  has  therefore  the  merit 
of  giving  the  lead  to  that  kind  of  writing.  It  contains  much  appro- 
priate satire,  good  verse,  and  laughable  humour. 

In  the  foregoing  Memoir  of  the  author  some  specimens  of  the 
satires  are  introduced,  from  which  their  general  character  may  be 
discovered.  They  have,  says  one,  the  fault  of  Seneca,  of  Ovid,  of 
Cowley;  a  profusion  and  an  unseasonable  application  of  wit.  A 
lover  of  originality,  he  did  not  study  or  regard  models.  Had  he 
endeavoured  to  imitate  Juvenal  and  Persius,  this  fault  would  have 
been  avoided.  Those  great  masters,  it  is  further  said,  were  too 
much  engrossed  by  the  importance  of  their  subjects,  to  full  into  the 
puerility  of  witticism.  But  here,  in  defence  of  Dr.  Young,  it  may 
be  replied,  that  in  depicting  the  foibles,  and  follies,  and  absurdities 
of  human  character  and  conduct,  his  witticisms  for  the  most  part 
seem  not  to  be  at  all  out  of  place.  It  is  true  that  they  may  be 
wanting  in  dignity,  and  stateliness,  and  gravity :  but  so  are  the 
things  he  satirizes.  It  is  a  good  rule  of  rhetoric  that  the  style  be 
suited  to  the  subject :  and  it  was  Dr.  Young's  opinion,  as  we  learn 
from  the  preface  to  those  satires,  that  to  smile  at  vice  and  folly  and 
turn  them  into  ridicule,  as  it  gives  them  the  greatest  offence,  is  to 
be  preferred  to  other  treatment- of  them.     He  asserts,  moreover, 


THE    WORKS    OF   Dlt.    YOUNG.  55 

that  laughing  satire  bids  the  fairest  for  success.  The  world  is  too 
proud  to  be  fond  of  a  serious  tutor ;  and  when  the  author  is  in  a 
passion,  the  laugh  generally,  as  in  conversation,  turns  against  him. 
Of  this  delicate  satire,  he  adds,  Horace  is  the  best  master :  he  ap- 
pears in  good  humour  while  he  censures ;  and  therefore  his  censure 
has  the  more  weight,  as  supposed  to  proceed  from  judgment,  not 
'':■  >m  passion.  Juvenal,  on  the  other  hand,  is  ever  in  a  passion  ;  he 
has  little  valuable  except  his  eloquence  and  morality ;  the  last  of 
which  (says  our  author)  I  have  had  in  my  eye,  but  rather  for  emu- 
lation than  imitation,  through  my  whole  work. 

The  remarks  of  Dr.  Aikin,  which  we  subjoin,  upon  the  production 
now  under  review,  seem  to  be  discriminating,  just,  and  candid. 

Like  all  other  theorists  on  the  mind,  who  aim  at  simplicity  in  their 
explanation  of  the  varieties  of  human  character,  he  has  laid  more 
stress  upon  his  fundamental  principle  (love  of  fame)  than  it  will  pro- 
perly bear ;  and  in  many  of  the  portraits  which  he  draws,  the  love  of 
fame  can  scarcely  be  recognized  as  a  leading  feature.  In  reality, 
Young  was  a  writer  of  much  more  fancy  than  judgment.  He  paints 
with  a  brilliant  touch  and  strong  colouring,  but  with  little  attention 
to  nature  ;  and  his  satires  are  rather  exercises  of  wit  and  invention 
than  grave  exposures  of  human  follies  and  vices.  He,  indeed,  runs 
through  the  ordinary  catalogue  of  fashionable  excesses,  but  in  such 
a  style  of  whimsical  exaggeration  that  his  examples  have  the  air  of 
mere  creatures  of  the  imagination.  His  pieces  are,  however,  enter- 
taining, and  are  marked  with  the  stamp  of  original  genius.  Having 
but  less  egotism  than  those  of  Pope,  they  have  a  less  splenetic  air ; 
and  the  author's  aim  seems  to  be  so  much  more  to  show  his  wit 
than  to  indulge  his  rancour,  that  his  severest  strokes  give  little 
pain. 

It  has  been  observed  that  Young's  satires  are  strings  of  epigrams. 
His  sketches  of  characters  are  generally  terminated  by  a  point,  and 
many  of  his  couplets  might  be  received  as  proverbial  maxims  or 
sentences.  A  common  figure  of  speech  with  him  is  the  antithesis, 
where  two  members  of  a  sentence,  apparently  in  opposition  to  each 
other,  are  connected  by  a  subtile  turn  in  the  sense.     Thus, 

"A  shameless  woman  is  the  worst  of  men. 
Because  she's  right  she's  ever  in  the  wrong." 


56  A    CRITICAL    ESTIMATE    OF 

With  wit,  or  the  association  of  distant  ideas  by  some  unexpected 
resemblance,  he  abounds.  Almost  every  page  affords  instances  of 
his  inventive  powers  in  this  respect ;  some,  truly  beautiful ;  others, 
odd  and  quaint.     For  example  : — 

"  Like  cats  in  air-pumps,  to  siibsist  we  strive 
On  joys  too  thin  to  keep  the  soul  alive." 

There  is  little  of  the  majestic  or  dignified  in  Young's  satires :  not 
that  he  was  incapable  of  sublimity,  but  because  the  view  he  took 
of  men  and  manners  generally  excluded  it.  His  second  satire  is  on 
Women  ;  for  his  politeness  did  not  prevent  him  from  employing  the 
lash  with  even  peculiar  force  on  the  tender  sex.  They  will  feel 
themselves,  however,  little  hurt  by  these  attacks,  for  his  ridicule  con- 
sists in  presenting  a  series  of  caricatures,  drawn  rather  from  fancy  than 
observation ;  and  he  does  not  treat  the  whole  sex  with  that  contempt 
which  is  perpetually  breaking  out  in  the  writings  of  Pope  and  Swift. 

Dr.  Young,  in  his  preface  to  the  "  Love  of  Fame,"  has  made 
some  observations  on  the  use  of  satire  as  a  means  of  reformation, 
which  deserve  a  place  here, — 

"  It  is  possible  that  satire  may  not  do  much  good ;  men  may  rise 
in  their  affections  to  then*  follies,  as  they  do  to  their  Mends,  when 
they  are  abused  by  others.  It  is  much  to  be  feared  that  misconduct 
will  never  be  chased  out  of  the  world  by  satire  ;  all  therefore  that 
is  to  be  said  for  it  is,  that  misconduct  will  certainly  never  be  chased 
out  of  the  world  by  satire,  if  no  satires  are  written ;  nor  is  that 
term  inapplicable  to  graver  compositions.  Ethics,  heathen  and 
christian,  and  the  Scriptures  themselves,  are  in  a  great  measure  a 
satire  on  the  weakness  and  iniquity  of  men  ;  and  some  part  of  that 
satire  is  in  verse  too  ;  nay,  in  the  first  ages,  philosophy  and  poetry 
were  the  same  thing :  wisdom  wore  no  other  dress,  so  that  I  hope 
these  satires  will  be  the  more  ea«ily  pardoned  that  misfortune  by 
the  severe.  If  they  hke  not  the  fashion,  let  them  take  them  by  the 
weight ;  for  some  weight  they  have,  or  the  author  has  failed  in  his 
aim.  Nay,  historians  themselves  may  be  considered  as  satirists,  and 
satirists  most  severe ;  since  such  are  most  human  actions,  that  to 
relate  is  to  expose  them. 

Tt  is  somewhat  surprising  that  none  of  the  distinguished  critics 


THE    WORKS    OF    DR.    YOUNG.  57 

from  whom  we  have  quoted,  animadvert  upon  one  marked  feature 
of  these  satires,  which  must  offend  every  person  of  refined  education 
and  religious  culture :  it  is  the  grosshess  and  vulgarity  to  which  the 
author  occasionally  descends.  In  this  respect  the  satires  were  better 
suited  to  the  taste  of  the  degenerate  period  in  which  they  were 
written  than  to  our  own,  which  has  been  improved  by  the  influences 
of  a  more  spiritual  and  thorough  Christianity  than  was  then  incul- 
cated. They  are  too  conformed  to  the  style  of  compositions  that 
sprung  up  under  the  corrupting  auspices  of  the  court  of  Charles  II., 
and  seem  indeed  to  have  been  designed  by  our  author  to  gratify 
most  a  class  of  people  that  were  familiar  with  the  loose  moralities 
and  indelicate  vocabulary  of  a  court :  and  hence  the  reading  of  the 
satires  may,  on  the  whole,  with  much  profit  be  dispensed  with,  espe- 
cially by  persons  of  immature  minds. 

It  is  proper  to  say,  not  in  justification  of  the  author's  introduc- 
ing such  expressions  as  we  here  censure,  but  in  explanation  of  his 
being  led  into  the  use  of  them,  that  unfortunately  he  had  sought 
and  acquired  a  very  familiar  acquaintance  with  men  of  courtly  habits 
and  of  courtly  vices :  that  he  was  familiar  with  such  men  as  Pope, 
and  Swift,  and  others  who  indulged  freely  in  such  ideas  and  expres- 
sions in  their  published  writings.  And  lest  the  censmre  here  pro- 
nounced upon  certain  limited  portions  of  these  satires  should  preju- 
dice any  mind  against  the  "  Night  Thoughts,"  it  is  proper  to  add 
that  the  former  production  was  written  some  years  before  the  latter  ; 
it  was  written  before  the  author  entered  upon  the  sacred  office,  and 
before  he  had  felt  the  salutary  influence  of  deep  affliction  in  causing 
him  to  chasten  his  mind  and  heart  before  the  doctrines  of  the  Cross 
The  "  Night  Thoughts"  are  of  a  very  different  order  of  compositiop 
from  the  satires,  being  entirely  free  from  the  taint  of  grossness  ane" 
vulgarity  which  characterize  some  of  the  expressions  and  allusion? 
which  we  have  felt  it  our  duty  to  expose,  as  found  in  the  earlier  pro 
duction. 

The  following  general  observations  on  Dr.  Young's  poetry  are 
from  the  pen  of  Dr.  Johnson  : — 

"  It   must   be    allowed   of  Young's   poetry,  that  it   abounds   in 
thought,   but    without    much    accuracy   of    selection.     When   he 
lays  hold  of  an  illustration,  he  pursues  it  beyond  expectation,  some- 
8* 


58  A    CRITICAL    ESTIMATE    OF 

times  havjpily,  as  in  his  parallel  of  quicksilver  with  pleasure,  which 
I  have  heard  repeated  with  approbation  by  a  lady  of  whose  praise 
he  would  have  been  justly  proud,  and  what  is  very  ingenious,  very 
subtile,  and  almost  exact ;  but  sometimes  he  is  less  lucky,  as  when, 
in  his  '  Night  Thoughts,'  having  it  dropped  into  his  mind  that  the 
orbs,  floating  in  space,  might  be  called  the  dust  of  creation,  he  thinks 
of  a  cluster  of  grapes,  and  says,  that  they  all  hang  on  the  great  vine, 
drinking  the  'nectareous  juice  of  immortal  life.'  The  parallel  ad- 
verted to  above  runs  as  follows  : — 

'"Pleasures  are  few,  and  fewer  we  enjoy; 
Pleasure,  like  quicksilver,  is  bright  and  coy; 
We  strive  to  grasp  it  with  our  utmost  skill, 
Still  it  eludes  us,  and  it  glitters  still : 
If  seized  at  last,  compute  your  mighty  gains ; 
What  is  it,  but  rank  poison  in  your  veins  V' 

"  His  conceits  are  sometimes  quite  valueless.  In  the  '  Last  Day,' 
he  hopes  to  illustrate  the  re-assembling  of  the  atoms  that  compose 
the  human  body  at  the  '  trump  of  doom,'  by  the  collection  of  bees 
into  a  swarm  at  the  tinkling  of  a  pan. 

"  The  prophet  says  of  Tyre,  that  '  her  merchants  are  princes.' 
Young  says  of  Tyre  in  his  '  Merchant,' 

'  Her  merchants  princes,  and  each  deck  a  throne.' 

Let  burlesque  try  to  go  beyond  him.  He  has  the  trick  of  joining 
the  turgid  and  familiar :  to  buy  the  alliance  of  Britain,  '  climes 
were  paid  down.'  Antithesis  is  his  favorite :  '  they  for  kindness 
hate  :'  and,  '  because  she's  right,  she's  ever  in  the  wrong.' 

"  His  versification  is  his  own.  Neither  his  blank  nor  his  rhyming 
lines  have  any  resemblance  to  those  of  former  writers.  He  picks  up 
no  hemistichs,  he  copies  no  favourite  expressions.  He  seems  to 
have  laid  up  no  stores  of  thought  or  of  diction,  but  to  owe  all  to  the 
fortuitous  suggestions  of  the  present  moment :  yet  I  have  reason  to 
believe  that  when  he  had  formed  a  new  design,  he  then  laboured  it 
with  very  patient  industry  ;  and  that  he  composed  with  great  labour, 
and  frequent  revisions.  His  verses  are  formed  by  no  certain  model. 
He  is  no  more  like  himself  in  his  different  productions  than  he  is 


THE    WORKS    OF    DR.    YOUNG.  59 

like  other?.  He  seems  never  to  have  studied  prosody,  nor  to  have 
had  any  direction  but  from  his  own  ear:  but  with  all  his  defects,  he 
was  a  man  of  genius  and  a  poet. 

The  Night  Thoughts. 

About  the  year  1*741,  it  pleased  Divine  Providence  to  deprive  Dr. 
Young,  within  a  short  period,  of  his  wife,  and  of  the  son  and 
daughter  whom  she  had  by  her  first  husband.  For  these  Dr. 
Young  manifests  as  tender  a  regard  as  if  they  had  been  his  own  off- 
spring. Meeting  with  these  great  domesticflosses  in  such  rapid  succes- 
sion, at  a  tolerably  advanced  period  of  life  (being  nearly  sixty  years 
old),  disgusted  with  the  world,  and  deprived  so  suddenly  of  all  his 
tenderest  social  attractions,  it  was  then,  as  a  French  writer  remarks, 
that  he  may  in  a  sense  be  said  to  have  descended  alive  into  the 
tomb  of  his  friends,  and  to  have  buried  himself  with  them ;  and, 
drawing  the  curtain  between  the  world  and  himself  he  no  more 
sought  consolation  except  in  the  future  world,  and  his  genius,  far 
from  being  idle  or  mute  under  his  affliction,  seemed  to  wait  for  these 
three  strokes  of  lightning  to  dart  itself  forward  into  the  sombre  em- 
pire of  death  and  to  penetrate  even  to  the  happy  regions  of  which 
it  is  the  passage. 

For  the  "  Night  Thoughts," — a  species  of  composition  which  he 
may  be  said  to  have  created ;  a  mass  of  the  grandest  and  richest 
poetry  which  human  genius  has  ever  produced,  he  has  received 
unbounded  applause.     It  is  to  this  work,  begun  when 

"  He  long  had  buried  what  gives  life  to  live, 
Firmness  of  nerve,  and  energy  of  thought, " 

that  he  deserves,  and  will  continue  to  deserve  his  reputation.  Fie 
appears  to  have  been  sensible  of  its  peculiar  merit,  since  he  denomi- 
nated his  writings  when  collected,  "  The  Works  of  the  Author  of  the 
Night  Thoughts."  It  may  not  improperly  be  considered  as  a  good 
poetical  contrast  to  Thomson's  "  Seasons  ;"  the  one  delighting  as  much 
to  exhibit  the  gloomy,  as  the  other  the  cheerful  face  of  things.  In 
the  article  of  sublimity,  it  may  vie  with  "Paradise  Lost"  itself; 
though  ir_  every  other  literary  respect  almost,  it  would  be  absurd  to 


60  A    CRITICAL    ESTIMATE    OK 

attempt  a  comparison  between  them.     The  beauties  of  the  "Night 
Thoughts"  are  numerous,  and  its  blemishes  are  not  few. 

Among  its  distinguishing  excellencies, are  the  spirit  of  sublime  piety 
and  strict  morality  which  animates  the  whole;  dignity  of  thought 
and  language,  bold  and  lively  descriptions,  proper  and  well-sup 
ported  similes,  and  striking  repetitions,  or  breaks  in  the  expression.. 

Among  its  principal  faults,  are,  the  unnecessary  repetition  of  thf 
same  ideas  and  images,  redundancy  of  metaphor,  extravagant  ideas 
and  expressions,  crowded  and  ill-chosen  epithets,  allusions  drawn  out 
beyond  their  proper  bounds,  a  puerile  play  on  words,  the  use 
of  inelegant  images  or  •terms,  and  negligence  of  the  harmony 
of  versification.  Yet  with  all  its  faults,  it  irresistibly  seizes  the 
mind  of  the  reader,  arrests  his  attention,  and  powerfully  inter- 
ests him  in  the  midnight  sorrows  of  the  plaintive,  bard.  It  has  a 
merit  which  no  production,  except  one  of  real  genius,  ever  possesses  : 
with  scarce  any  facts  or  incidents  to  awaken  curiosity,  it  speaks  to 
the  heart  through  the  medium  of  the  imagination. 

No  ordinary  genius  was  required  to  communicate  any  poetical 
interest  to  a  poem  on  such  a  plan,  and  of  such  a  class  of  subjects. 
Yet  this  is  one  of  the  few  poems  on  which  the  broad  stamp  of  popu- 
larity has  been  prominently  impressed.  Editions  have  been  multi- 
plied from  every  press  in  the  country.  It  is  to  be  seen  on  the  shelf 
of  the  cottager,  with  the  Family  Bible  and  the  Pilgrim's  Progress ; 
and  it  ranks  among  the  first  and  favourite  materials  of  the  poetical 
library.  What  is  more  remarkable,  is,  that  the  French  are  fond  of 
Young,  though  they  cannot  understand  either  Milton  or  Shakspeare. 
It  is  said  that  Napoleon  was  particularly  gratified  with  the  "  Night 
Thoughts"  and  Ossian. 

Young  is,  in  fact,  more  of  the  orator  than  of  the  poet ;  but  his 
oratory  is  still  of  a  character  distinct  from  the  eloquence  of  prose. 
The  "  Night  Thoughts"  please  us  much  in  the  same  manner  as  we 
are  captivated  by  the  wonders  of  fiction,  only,  in  this  poem,  the 
vastness,  the  grandeur,  the  novelty  consist,  not  in  strange  or  roman 
tic  incidents,  but  in  the  unexpected  turns  and  adventurous  sallies, 
the  dazzling  pomp  of  metaphor,  the  infinite  succession  of  combina- 
tions and  intersections  of  thought,  the  stratagems  of  expression, 
which  occur  throughout  this  long  poetical  homily ;  so  that,  forbid- 


THE    WORKS    OF    DR.    YOCNG.  61 

ding  as  the  subject  is  from  its  severity,  he  has  continued  to  enliven 
it  with  all  the  graces  of  wit,  chastened  by  the  majesty  of  truth. 
Add  to  this,  there  is  a  charm  in  that  stern  and  pensive  melancholy 
which  is  the  character  of  the  "  Night  Thoughts ;"  a  sentimental 
charm  which  hangs  about  moonlight  graves,  and  whispering  night 
winds,  and  funereal  cypress,  in  which  those  persons  especially  love  to 
indulge,  who  have  known  no  deeper  wounds  of  sensibility  than 
those  of  fictitious  griefs  or  philosophical  pensiveness. 

In  this  poem  there  is  a  luxuriance  of  faults  as  well  as  of  beauties. 
Johnson  terms  it  "  a  wilderness  of  thought."  The  perpetual  enigma 
of  the  stylo  at  length  wearies  ;  the  antitheses  pall  upon  us ;  we  even 
grow  fatigued  with  admiration.  The  faults  of  Young  are,  however, 
the  faults  of  genius,  and  they  are  amply  redeemed  by  the  splendor 
that  is  thrown  around  them.  It  is  not,  perhaps,  peculiar  to  Young's 
poetry  that  very  young  and  very  old  persons  are  the  most  partial  to 
the  "  Night  Thoughts :"  the  reason  of  this  may  be  found  in  the 
progress  of  taste.  It  pleases  the  more  before  the  taste  has  attained 
the  period  of  refined  cultivation,  because  we  are  then  less  sensiblo 
of  the  defects  of  his  style,  and  are  most  susceptible  of  that  indistinct 
feeling  of  awe  which  the  Gothic  gloom  of  his  poetry  is  adapted  to 
excite.  It  pleases  us  as  age  advances  on  account  of  the  sympathetic 
views  of  life  which  make  the  poetry  of  Young  seem  to  an  old  man 
doubly  natural.  The  author  had  passed  his  sixtieth  year  when  he 
published  the  First  Night ;  and  there  is,  it  'must  be  owned,  some- 
thing of  the  querulousness,  as  well  as  the  sageness  of  age,  in  the 
general  strain  of  his  sentiments.  But  his  long  complaint  terminates, 
as  it  should  do,  in  consolation  ;  and  the  Ninth  Night  is  the  one, 
which,  next  to  the  first  three,  is  the  most  generally  read  and  the 
most  frequently  adverted  to. 

It  may  be  profitable  as  well  as  interesting  here  to  introduce  part 
of  a  sketch  from  the  Edinburgh  Review,  of  that  school  of  English 
poetry  to  which  Dr.  Young  belonged,  and  which  differed  so  essen- 
tially from  that  of  the  preceding  century.  The  Restoration  (of 
Charles  II.),  says  the  author  of  this  sketch,  Lord  Jeffrey,  brought  in 
a  French  taste  upon  us,  and  what  was  called  a  classical  and  a  polite 
taste ;  and  the  wings  of  our  English  muses  were  clipped  and  trim- 
med, and  their  flights  regulated  at  the  expense  of  all  that  was  pc-cu- 


62  A    CRITICAL    ESTIMATE    OF 

liar,  and  much  of  what  was  brightest  in  their  beauty.  The  king 
and  his  courtiers  during  their  long  exile,  had  of  course  imbibed  the 
taste  of  their  protectors ;  and,  coming  from  the  gay  court  of  France, 
with  something  of  that  additional  profligacy  that  belonged  to  their 
outcast  and  adventurer  character,  were  likely  enough  to  be  revolted 
by  the  very  excellencies  of  our  native  literature.  The  grand  and 
sublime  tone  of  our  greater  poets  appeared  to  them  dull,  morose, 
and  gloomy  ;  and  the  fine  play  of  their  rich  and  unrestrained  fancy, 
mere  childishness  and  folly  :  while  their  frequent  lapses  and  perpe- 
tual irregularity  were  set  down  as  clear  indications  of  barbarity  and 
ignorance.  At  this  particular  moment  too  in  England,  the  best  of 
its  recent  models  labored  under  the  reproach  of  republicanism  ;  and 
the  courtiers  were  not  only  disposed  to  see  all  its  peculiarities  with 
an  eye  of  scorn  and  aversion,  but  had  even  a  good  deal  to  say  in 
favor  of  that  very  opposite  style  to  which  they  had  been  habituated. 
It  was  a  witty,  and  a  grand,  and  a  splendid  style.  It  showed  more 
scholarship  and  art,  than  the  luxuriant  negligence  of  the  old  English 
school ;  and  was  not  only  free  from  many  of  its  hazards,  and  some 
of  its  faults,  but  possessed  merits  of  its  own,  of  a  character  more 
likely  to  please  those  who  had  then  the  power  of  conferring  celebrity, 
or  condemning  to  derision.  Then  it  was  a  style  which  it  was  pecu- 
liarly easy  to  justify  by  argument ;  and  in  support  of  which  great 
authorities,  as  well  as  imposing  names,  were  always  ready  to  be  pro- 
duced. It  came  upon  us  with  the  air  and  the  pretension  of  being 
the  style  of  cultivated  Europe,  and  a  true  copy  of  the  style  of 
polished  antiquity. 

Compared  with  the  former  style  of  English  poets,  this  new  conti- 
nental one  was  more  worldly  and  more  townish  ;  holding  more  of 
reason,  and  ridicule  and  authority ;  more  elaborate  and  more  assum- 
ing ;  addressed  more  to  the  judgment  than  to  the  feelings ;  and  some- 
what ostentatiously  accommodated  to  the  habits,  or  supposed  habits, 
of  persons  in  fashionable  life.  Instead  of  tenderness  and  fancy,  we 
had  satire  and  sophistry ;  artificial  declamation,  in  place  of  tho 
spontaneous  animations  of  genius ;  and,  for  the  universal  language 
of  Shakespeare,  the  personalities,  the  party  politics,  and  the  brutal 
obscenities  of  Dryden.  Of  this  continental  style,  Addison  was  the 
consummation ;  and  if  it  had  not  been  redeemed  about  the  same 


THE    WORKS    OF    DR.    YOUNG.  63 

time  by  the  fine  talents  of  Pope,  would  probably  have  so  far  dis- 
credited it,  as  to  have  brought  us  back  to  our  original  faith  half  a 
century  before.  Pope  has  incomparably  more  spirit,  and  taste,  and 
animation  ;  but  Pope  is  a  satirist,  and  a  moralist,  and  a  wit,  and  a 
critic,  and  a  fine  writer,  much  more  than  he  is  a  poet.  lie  has  all 
the  delicacies  and  proprieties  and  felicities  of  diction ;  but  he  has 
not  a  great  deal  of  fancy,  and  scarcely  ever  touches  any  of  the 
greater  passions.  He  is  much  the  best,  we  think,  of  the  classical 
continental  school ;  but  he  is  not  to  be  compared  with  the  masters, 
nor  with  the  pupils,  of  that  Old  English  one  from  which  there  had 
been  so  lamentable  an  apostacy.  There  are  no  pictures  of  nature 
or  of  simple  emotion  in  all  his  writings.  He  is  the  poet  of  town 
life,  and  of  high  life,  and  of  literary  life ;  and  seems  so  much  afraid 
of  incurring  ridicule  by  the  display  of  natural  feeling  or  unregu- 
lated fancy,  that  it  is  difficult  not  to  imagine  that  he  thought  such 
ridicule  could  have  been  very  well  directed. 

With  the  wits  of  Queen  Anne  this  foreign  school  attained  the 
summit  of  its  reputation ;  and  has  ever  since,  we  think,  been  de- 
clining, though  by  slow  and  imperceptible  gradations.  Thomson 
was  the  first  writer  of  any  eminence  who  receded  from  it,  and  made 
some  steps  back  to  the  force  and  animation  of  our  original  poetry. 
Young  exhibits,  in  our  judgment,  a  curious  combination,  or  contrast 
rather,  of  the  two  steps  of  which  we  have  been  speaking.  Though 
incapable  either  of  tenderness  or  of  passion,  he  had  a  richness  and 
activity  of  fancy  that  belonged  rather  to  the  days  of  James  and 
Elizabeth,  than  to  those  of  George  and  Anne :  but  then,  instead  of 
indulging  it,  as  the  older  writers  would  have  done,  in  easy  and 
playful  inventions,  in  splendid  descriptions,  or  glowing  illustrations, 
he  is  led  by  the  restraints  and  established  taste  of  his  age  to  work 
it  up  into  strained  and  fantastical  epigrams,  or  into  cold  and  revolt*- 
ing  hyperboles.  Instead  of  letting  it  flow  gracefully  on,  in  an  easy 
and  sparkling  current,  he  perpetually  forces  it  out  in  jets,  or  makes 
it  stagnate  in  formal  canals  ;  and  thinking  it  necessary  to  write  like 
Pope,  when  the  bent  of  his  genius  led  him  rather  to  copy  what  was 
best  in  Cowley  and  most  fantastic  in  Shakespeare,  he  has  produced 
something  which  has  produced  wonder  instead  of  admiration,  and  is 
felt  by  every  one  to  be  at  once  ingenious,  incongruous,  and  unnatural. 


64  A    CRITICAL    ESTIMATE    OF 

But  to  proceed  no  further  with  this  instructive  and  illustrative 
sketch  of  English  poetry,  and  to  confine  ourselves  more  particu- 
larly to  the  consideration  of  the  Night  Thoughts,  it  would  be  easy 
to  select  a  long  series  of  specimens  of  pathetic  and  sublime  com- 
position. But,  as  has  been  correctly  observed,  amid  the  profusion 
of  beautiful  passages  that  may  be  cited,  the  description  of  Conscience 
from  her  secret  stand  noting  down  the  follies  of  a  bacchanalian  so- 
ciety (II.,  202,  <fec);  the  epitaph  upon  the  departed  world;  the 
issuing  of  Satan  from  his  dungeon  on  the  Day  of  Judgment ;  all 
these  are  distinguished  by  great  strength  and  boldness  of  invention, 
and  rise  in  many  parts  to  the  terrible  and  sublime.  The  simile  of 
the  traveller,  with  which  The  Consolation  opens,  is  highly  pleasing, 
striking,  and  beautiful. 

"  As  when  a  traveller,  a  long  day  past 
In  painful  search  of  what  he  cannot  find 
At  night's  approach,  content  with  the  next  cot, 
There  ruminates,  awhile,  his  labor  lost: 
Then  cheers  his  heart  with  what  his  fate  affords, 
And  chants  his  sonnet  to  deceive  the  time, 
Till  the  due  season  calls  him  to  repose : 
Thus  I,  long  travell'd  in  the  ways  of  men, 
And  dancing  with  the  rest,  the  giddy  maze, 
Where  disappointment  smiles  at  hope's  career; 
Warn'd  by  the  languor  of  life's  evening  ray, 
At  length  have  housed  me  in  an  humble  shed  ; 
Where,  future  wandering  banish'd  from  my  thought, 
And  waiting,  patient,  the  sweet  hour  of  rest, 
I  chase  the  moments  with  a  serious  song. 
Song  soothes  our  pains ;  and  age  has  pains  to  soothe." 

Dr.  Young's  account  of  the  nature  and  faculties  of  an  immortal 
soul,  of  different  natures  marvellously  mixed,  clogged  by  the  finite 
and  perishable  materials  of  its  house  of  clay,  is  profound,  striking, 
comprehensive,  and,  what  in  him  is  rare,  closely  consecutive.  Hi? 
arguments  in  favor  of  infinite  duration  in  a  future  state,  though  nol 
in  all  cases  logically  conclusive,  are  beautifully  poetic. 

"  0  ye  blest  scenes  of  permanent  delight, — 
Could  ye  so  rich  in  rapture  fear  an  end, 
That  ghastly  thought  would  drink  up  all  your  joy 
And  quite  unparadise  the  realms  of  light!" 


THE    WORKS    OF    DR.    YOUXG.  65 

"Amongst  our  poets,"  says  a  talented  English  writer,  "those 
who  display  the  greatest  power  of  mind,  are  Milton,  Pope,  and 
Young.  Had  Young  possessed  the  requisite  of  taste,  he  would 
perhaps  have  rivalled  even  Milton  in  power  ;  but  such  is  his  choice 
of  images  and  words,  that  by  frequent  and  sudden  introduction  of 
heterogeneous  and  interior  ideas,  he  nullifies  what  would  otherwise 
be  sublime,  and,  by  breaking  the  chain  of  associations,  strikes  otit,  as 
it  were,  the  key-stone  of  the  arch.  Nor  is  this  all :  the  ponderous 
magnitude  of  his  images,  heaped  together  without  room  for  adjust- 
ment in  the  mind,  resembles  rather  the  accumulation  of  loose  masses 
of  uncemented  granite,  than  the  majestic  mountain,  of  which  each 
separate  portion  helps  to  constitute  a  mighty  whole.  Still  we  must 
acknowledge  of  this  immortal  poet,  that  his  path  was  in  the  heavens, 
and  that  his  soul  was  suited  to  the  celestial  sphere  in  which  it 
seemed  to  live  and  expand  as  in  its  native  element.  We  can  feel 
no  doubt  that  his  own  conceptions  were  magnificent  as  the  stars 
amongst  which  his  spirit  wandered,  and  had  his  mode  of  conveying 
these  conceptions  to  the  minds  of  others  been  equal  to  their  own 
original  sublimity,  he  would  have  stood  pre-eminent  amongst  our 
poets  in  the  region  of  power. 

"  After  all,  it  is  not  so  much  in  extended  passages,  as  in  distinct 
thoughts,  and  single  expressions,  that  we  feel  and  acknowledge  the 
power  of  this  dignified  and  majestic  WTiter.  '  Silence  and  darkness  '. 
solemn  sisters'  is  a  striking  illustration  of  how  great  an  extent  of 
sublimity  may  be  embodied  in  a  few  simple  and  well-chosen  words  ; 
and  it  is  unquestionably  to  beauties  of  this  description  that  Young 
is  indebted  for  his  high  rank  amongst  the  English  poets." 

Perhaps  enough  has  been  said  in  the  way  of  criticism  and  illus- 
tration ;  but,  nevertheless,  it  soems  desirable  to  add  some  observa- 
tions of  Dr.  Aikin,  the  well-known  editor  of  some  of  the  older 
British  poets.  They  are  here  added,  because,  in  the  main,  they 
have  our  cordial  assent ;  but  those  which  refer  to  the  theological 
aspects  and  religious  tendencies  of  the  poem  we  cannot  but  regard  as 
in  a  great  measure  unfounded.  It  is  certain  that  some  of  its  theo- 
logical statements  and  reflections  will  not  please  the  man  of  the 
world,  because  he  cannot  appreciate  the  higher  doctrines  and  facts 
of  evangelical  religion  :  they  will  be  considered   gloomy,  unsocial 


66  A    CRITICAL    ESTIMATE    OF 

perhaps  also  incredible.  But  the  difficulty  in  such  a  case  is  not 
chargeable  to  the  error  of  the  poet,  but  to  the  disqualification  of  the 
reader.  We  believe  it  to  be  so  in  the  present  instance.  Dr.  Aikin 
was  evidently  a  better  critic  in  the  literature  than  in  the  theology 
of  Young. 

With  these  preliminary  statements  and  qualifications,  which  seem 
to  be  called  for  in  all  fairness,  we  copy  the  excellent  observations  of 
the  writer  referred  to :  and  the  rather,  as  they  embody  his  views  of 
the  history  of  this  remarkable  poem — the  process  by  which  it  was 
wrought  out — or  the  circumstances  that  gave  it  some  of  its  promi- 
nent characteristics. 

"  Dr.  Young  was  a  man  of  warm  feelings,  ambitious  both  of  fame 
and  advancement.  He  set  out  in  life  upon  an  eager  pursuit  of  what 
is  chiefly  valued  by  men  of  the  world  ;  attached  himself  to  patrons, 
some  of  them  such  as  moral  delicacy  would  have  shunned,  and  was 
not  sparing  in  adulation.  His  rewards,  however,  were  much  inferior 
to  his  expectations  :  he  lived,  as  he  himself  says,  '  to  be  so  long 
remembered,  that  he  was  forgot,'  and  he  was  obliged  to  bury  his 
chagrin  in  a  country  parsonage.  He  also  met  with  domestic  losses 
of  the  most  affecting  kind,  and  he  possessed  little  vigor  of  mind  to 
bear  up  under  misfortune.  In  this  state  he  sat  down  to  write  his 
'  Complaint'  (for  that  is  the  other  title  of  the  Night  Thoughts)  at  a 
time  when  he  was  haunted  with  '  the  ghosts  of  his  departed  joys,' 
and  every  past  pleasure  'pained  him  to  the  heart.'  His  first  object 
therefore,  is  to  dress  the  world  in  the  colours  of  that  '  night'  through 
which  he  surveyed  it ;  to  paint  it  as  a  scene 

Where's  naught  substantial  but  our  misery ; 
Where  joy  (if  joy)  but  heightens  our  distress. 

Tn  his  progress  he  endeavours  to  pluck  up  by  the  roots  every  com 
fort  proceeding  from  worldly  hopes  or  human  philosophy,  and  to 
humble  the  soul  to  the  dust  by  a  sense  of  its  own  vileness,  and  the 
vanity  of  everything  terrestrial.  This  prepares  the  way  for  the  ad- 
ministration of  the  grand  and  sole  remedy  for  the  evils  of  life — the 
hope  of  immortality  as  presented  in  the  Christian  revelation.  His 
view  of  this  scheme  is  of  the  most  awful  kind.  He  conceives  a 
wrathful  and  avenging  God,  on  the  point  of  dooming  all  his  offend- 


THB    WORKS    OF    DK.    YOUNG. 


ing,  that  is  all  his  rational,  creatures  to  eternal  destruction,  but  di- 
verted from  his  purpose  by  the  ransom  paid  in  the  sufferings  and 
death  of  his  Son.  I  do  not  take  upon  me  to  pronounce  concerning 
the  soundness  of  his  theology  ;  but  so  deep  is  the  power  it  spreads 
over  his  whole  poem,  that,  in  effect,  it  overpowers  the  light  of  his 
consolations.  There  is  a  kind  of  captious  austerity  in  all  his  reason- 
ings concerning  the  things  of  this  world,  that  charges  with  guilt 
and  folly  every  attempt  to  be  happy  in  it.  Every  circumstance  is 
dwelt  upon  that  can  image  life  as  vain  and  miserable  ;  and  lest  any 
gladsome  note  should  cheer  the  transitory  scene,  he  perpetually 
sounds  in  the  ears  the  knell  of  death.  Such  a  picture  of  this  world 
I  am  sure,  is  ill  calculated  to  inspire  love  for  its  Creator ;  and  I 
think  it  as  little  fitted  to  foster  the  mutual  charities  of  life,  and  put 
men  in  good  humour  with  each  other.  What  a  contrast  to  the 
amiable  theology  of  the  Seasons  !" 

"  No  writer,  perhaps,  ever  equalled  Young  in  the  strength  and 
brilliancy  which  he  imparts  to  those  sentiments  which  are  funda- 
mental to  his  design.  He  presents  them  in  every  possible  shape 
enforces  them  by  every  imaginable  argument,  sometimes  compresses 
them  into  a  maxim,  sometimes  expands  them  into  a  sentence  of 
rhetoric,  sets  them  off  by  contrast,  and  illustrates  them  by  simili- 
tude." 

"  It  has  already  been  observed,  in  speaking  of  his  satires,  how 
much  he  abounds  in  antithesis.  This  work  is  quite  overrun  with 
them  ;  they  often  occupy  several  successive  lines ;  and  while 
some  strike  with  the  force  of  lightning,  others  idly  gleam  like 
a  meteor.  It  is  the  same  with  his  other  figures :  some  are 
almost  unrivalled  in  sublimity;  many  are  to  be  admired  for 
their  novelty  and  ingenuity ;  many  are  amusing  only  by  their  ex- 
travagance. It  was  the  author's  aim  to  say  everything  wittily :  no 
wonder,  therefore,  that  he  has  often  strayed  into  the  paths  of  false 
wit.  It  is  one  of  his  characteristics  to  run  a  thought  quite  out  of 
breath  ;  so  that  what  was  striking  at  the  commencement  is  rendered 
flat  and  tiresome  by  amplification.  Indeed  without  this  talent  of 
amplifying  he  could  never  have  produced  a  work  of  the  length  of 
the  Night  Thoughts  from  so  small  a  stock  of  fundamental  ideas." 

"  I  cannot  foresee  how  far  the  vivacity  of  his  style,  and  the  fre- 


08  A    (MUTK'AI.    ESTIMATE    OF 

quent  recurrence  of  novel  and  striking  conceptions,  ■will  lead  you  on 
through  a  performance  which,  I  beheve,  appears  tedious  to  most 
readers  before  they  arrive  at  the  termination.  Some  of  the  earlier 
books  will  afford  you  a  complete  specimen  of  his  manner  and  tarnish 
you  with  some  of  his  finest  passages.  You  will,  doubtless,  not  stop 
short  of  the  third  book,  entitled  "Narassa,"  the  theme  of  which 
he  characterises  as 

Soft,  modest,  melancholy,  female,  fair. 

It  will  show  you  the  author's  powers  in  the  pathetic,  where  the 
topic  called  them  forth  to  the  fullest  exertion  ;  and  you  will  probably 
find  that  he  has  mingled  too  much  fancy  and  playfulness  with  his 
grief,  to  render  it  highly  affecting." 

"The  versification  of  Young  is  entirely  modelled  by  his  style  of 
writing.  That  being  pointed,  sententious,  and  broken  into  short 
detached  clauses,  his  lines  almost  constantly  are  terminated  with  a 
pause  in  the  sense,  so  as  to  preclude  all  the  varied  and  lengthened 
melody  of  which  blank  verse  is  capable.  Taken  singly,  however, 
they  are  generally  free  from  harshness,  and  sometimes  are  eminently 
musical."' 

Thus  far,  and  in  the  main  excellently,  writes  this  discrimin- 
ating and  able  critic.  It  will  aid  the  reader  to  form  a  more  just 
estimate  of  the  poem  in  some  particulars,  to  adduce,  in  contrast, 
the  sentiment  of  a  late  eminent  clergyman  and  instructor  of  our 
own  land,  the  Rev.  Joseph  Emerson,  of  Connecticut,  whose  theolo- 
gical education  and  attainments  had  qualified  him  to  judge  more 
accurately  than  Dr.  Aikin,  upon  the  religious  tendencies  and  utilities 
of  the  poem.  These  sentiments  were  expressed  in  one  oi'  those 
familiar  but  able  lectures  which  he  was  accustomed  to  deliver  to 
Belecl  audiences  at  bis  Seminary  and  elsewhere,  upon  several  of  the 
English  poets.  Those  lectures  were  partly  extempore  and  partly 
written,  and  were  accompanied  with  the  reading  of  the  Poem  in 
course  to  his  audiences.  From  his  written  notes,  in  lecturing  upon 
the  Night  Thoughts,  the  following  sentences  have  been  given  to  the 
world  in  his  memoir  : — 

"  Young  : — To  this  great  aim  venerable  bard,  I  can  say.  Hail 
thou  dear  companion  of  my  early  youth;  most   faithful  counsellor 


THE    WORKS    OJf    DK.    VOl'NU.  69 

of  my  advancing  days  ;  precious,  invaluable  friend,  for  more  than 
twenty,  more  than  thirty  summers  ripening  by  my  side  ;  balm  of 
my  sorrows;  pillow  of  my  weary,  throbbing  head;  sweetener  of  my 
sweetest  joys.  Some  have  considered  him  too  dark,  too  dismal,  too 
gloomy.  Dark  and  dismal,  indeed,  are  many  of  his  pictures ;  but, 
I  think,  not  more  so  than  their  originals.  If  so,  we  should  not 
blame  the  painter,  but  the  subjects.  But  even  granting  that  the 
darkness  of  his  grief  has  added  some  shades  of  horror  to  his  por- 
traits ;  his  redeeming  pictures  are  most  glorious.  What  other  pencil 
has  given  us  such  paintings  of  the  cross?  of  the  beauties  of  Im 
manuel,  and  the  glories  of  salvation  ? 

"  To  me,  the  '  Night  Thoughts'  is  a  poem,  on  the  whole,  most 
animating  and  delightful ;  amazingly  energetic  ;  full  of  the  richest 
instruction ;  improving  to  the  mind ;  much  of  it  worthy  of  being 
committed  to  memory ;  possessing  some  faults — some  passages  unfit 
to  be  read — obscure — extravagant — tinged  occasionally  with  flattery." 

Having  thus  presented  both  sides  of  the  question  as  to  the  theolo- 
gical excellencies  and  defects  of  the  "  Night  Thoughts,"  we  may 
remark,  that  it  becomes  an  inquhy  of  great  interest,  what  influence 
this  remarkable  poem  has  actually  exerted  over  the  intellect,  the 
conscience,  the  sensibilities,  the  moral  tastes,  the  conduct,  and  the 
destiny,  of  its  numerous  readers  and  admirers 2  Bearing  upon  this 
inquiry,  we  have  found  a  passage  in  Dr.  Cheever's  Review  of  the 
Life  and  Correspondence  of  John  Foster,  which  has  greatly  inter- 
ested us  :  he  says  : — 

"  Young's  '  Night  Thoughts'  occupied  a  conspicuous  place  among 
the  books  which  attracted  Foster's  early  notice,  and  under  the  influ- 
ence of  which  the  characteristics  of  his  mind  were  much  formed  and 
developed.  The  strain  of  gloomy  and  profound  sublimity  which 
distinguishes  the  poem  suited  perfectly  the  original  bent  of  his  in- 
tellect, the  character  of  his  imagination,  and  his  tendencies  of  feel- 
ing, so  that  it  wrought  upon  him  with  a  powerful  effect.  It  even 
had  much  to  do  with  the  moulding  of  his  style,  as  well  as  the  sus- 
taining and  enriching  of  his  native  sublimity  of  sentiment.  Almost 
all  Foster's  pages  are  tinged  with  the  sombre,  thoughtful  grandeur 
of  the  night-watcher ;  they  reflect  the  lonely  magnificence  of  mid- 
night and  the  stars.     And  there  are  images  in  Young  which  describe 


70  A    CRITICAL    ESTIMATE    OF    DR.    YOCNg's    WORKS. 

the  tenor  of  Foster's  meditative  life,  occupied,  so  much  of  it,  with 
intense  contemplations  on  the  future  life,  in  pacing  to  and  fro  upon 
the  beach  of  that  immortal  sea,  which  brought  us  hither.  For  no 
one  ever  saw  him  but  he  seemed  to 

,c  Walk  thoughtful  on  the  solemn,  silent  shore 
Of  that  vast  ocean  we  must  sail  so  soon." 

His  love  and  admiration  of  Young's  Night  Thoughts  he  carried 
with  him  through  life." 

On  the  whole,  (as  one  correctly  observes,)  this  work  has  produced 
a  deep  impression,  has  served  to  mould  opinions,  tastes,  and  charac- 
ter. It  is  read  with  equal  interest  by  all  classes.  The  old  read  it 
for  its  sober  views  of  life,  the  young  for  its  poetry.  Christians  love 
it  for  its  truth ;  persons  indifferent  to  religion  are  gained  by  the 
affectionate  warmth  of  its  appeals  to  their  self-interest.  All  perhaps 
admire  it  for  its  pathos  and  its  pensiveness.  The  love  of  melan- 
choly, so  deeply  seated  in  many  minds,  also  accounts  for  no  small 
part  of  its  fascinations. 


THE    COMPLAINT. 


What  number.;  •  o  lap  hlgh-fecl 

Solicit  the  coldiand  ■       '•'■■ 

To  shock  us  more  solicit  it  in_-.ram 


i        ■  file  3  , 


NIGHT  I 


ON  LIFE,  DEATH,  AND  IMMORTALITY. 


€n  tip  Jtigjjt  Intiimrnlib  Slrtjjitr  (Dnslnra,  &q., 

SPEAKER    OF    THE    HOUSE    OF    COMMONS. 


Tired  Nature's  sweet  restorer,  balmy  Sleep  1 
He,  like  the  world,  his  ready  visit  pays 
"Where  F<  rtune  smiles  ;  the  wretched  he  forsakes  : 
Swift  on  his  downy  pinions  flies  from  woe, 
And  lights  on  lids  unsullied  with  a  tear. 

From  short  (as  usual)  and  disturbed  repose 
I  wake :  how  happy  they  who  wake  no  more  ! 
Yet  that  were  vain,  if  dreams  infest  the  grave. 

Young  has  painted  tetter  than  most  poets  the  miseries  of  human  life, 
because,  on  the  whole,  he  has  taken  a  broader  view  of  them.  Johnson 
paints  principally  the  miseries  of  scholarly  and  diseased  men  like  himself, 
living  in  cities ;  Cowper,  of  the  same  class  living  in  country  places ;  Byron, 
those  of  magnificent  but  jaded  sensualists ;  Foster,  of  captious  aud  jaun- 
diced religionists,  to  whom  genius  even  is  a  fatal  gift ;  Young,  lifted  jp  on 
a  pinnacle,  "  sees  all  the  kingdoms  of  this  world  (and  the  misery  thereof)  in 
a  moment  of  time." — Gilfillajt. 
4 


74  THE    COMPLAINT. 

I  wake,  emerging  from  a  sea  of  dreams 

Tumultuous  ;  where  my  wreck'd  desponding  thought  10 

From  wave  to  wave  of  fancied  misery 

At  random  drove,  her  helm  of  reason  lost ; 

Though  now  restored,  'tis  only  change  of  pain, 

(A  bitter  change  !)  severer  for  severe. 

The  day  too  short  for  my  distress ;  and  night,  1 5 

E'en  in  the  zenith  of  her  dark  domain, 

Is  sunshine  to  the  colour  of  my  fate. 

THE    REIGN    OF    NIGHT. 

Night,  sable  goddess !  from  her  ebon  throne, 
In  rayless  majesty,  now  stretches  forth 

Her  leaden  sceptre  o'er  a  slumb'ring  world.  20 

Silence  how  dead  !  and  darkness  how  profound ! 
Nor  eye  nor  list'ning  ear  an  object  finds  ; 
Creation  sleeps.     'Tis  as  the  gen'ral  pulse 
Of  life  stood  still,  and  Nature  made  a  pause ; 
An  awful  pause  !  prophetic  of  her  end.  25 

And  let  her  prophecy  be  soon  fulfill'd  : 
Fate !  drop  the  curtain ;  I  can  lose  no  more, 

1-5.  In  the  opening  of  the  Poem  (says  Melraoth)  there  is  a  singular 
felicity.  It  was  perfectly  proper  to  begin  with  a  sort  of  reproaching 
address  to  the  Power  ■which  denied  the  repose,  that  would  at  least  have, 
suspended  his  agony.  The  notion  of  sleep  lighting  on  litis  unsullied  with 
a  tear,  is  very  pretty;  and  yet,  even  in  the  setting  out,  the  characteristic 
fault  of  our  author  is  conspicuous.  These  very  lines,  pleasing  as  they 
are,  too  often  repeat  the  same  image.  The  thought  is  completed  at  the 
end  of  the  third  line :  it  is  echoed  in  each  of  the  two  following  lines. 

How  much  more  agreeable  (he  adds)  is  a  passage  without  any  of  that 
luxuriance,  or  amplification,  of  which  we  are  complaining !  Shakspeare, 
speaking  of  this  subject,  eays  : 

"the  innocent  sleep: 


Sleep  that  knits  up  the  ravell'd  sleeve  of  care, 
The  death  of  each  day's  life:  sore  labor's  bath, 
Balm  of  hurt  minds,  great  natures  second  course, 
Chief  nourlsher  in  life's  fca?t.'' 


Silence  and  Darkness  !  solemn  sisters !  twins 
From  ancient  Night,  who  nurse  the  tender  thought 
To  reason,  and  on  reason  build  resolve,  30 

(That  column  of  true  majesty  in  man) 
Assist  me  :  I  will  thank  you  in  the  grave ; 
The  grave,  your  kingdom.     There  this  frame  shall  fall 
A  victim  sacred  to  your  dreary  shrine. 
But  what  are  ye  ?  35 

ADDRESS    TO    THE    AUTHOR    OF    LIGHT. 

Thou,  who  didst  put  to  flight 
Primeval  Silence,  when  the  morning  stare, 
Exulting,  shouted  o'er  the  rising  ball ; 
O  Thou,  whose  word  from  solid  darkness  struck 
That  spark,  the  sun  ;  strike  wisdom  from  my  soul ;  40 

28.  Silence  and  Darkness :  A  beautiful  appeal  is  made  to  these  imaginary 
personages  for  assistance,  who  are  here  poetically  represented  as  sisters,  the 
children  of  ancient  Night,  which  existed  before  the  alternation  of  Night  and 
Day  in  the  historic  period  of  our  earth.  They  are  described  as  nursing  the 
tender  thought  to  reason,  or  as  leading  us  from  incipient  thoughts  on  any  sub- 
ject  to  a  connected  train  of  thought — to  conclusions.  It  is  their  office  also  to 
build  resolve  on  reason,  that  is,  superadd  to  the  conclusions  of  reasoning  the 
strong  determination  of  the  will,  "that  column  of  true  majesty  in  man." 
There  is  some  incongruity  in  the  figurative  language  of  this  passage,  which 
it  may  be  rhetorically  useful  to  point  out.  Silence  and  darkness  are  repre- 
sented, beautifully  and  appropriately,  as  the  nurses  of  thought,  maturing  into 
conclusions :  but  when  the  author  speaks  of  their  building  resolve  upon 
reason,  &c,  he  unwisely  and  unhappily  changes  the  figure,  and  introduces  a 
confused  image.  They  are  now  converted  into  architects,  and  the  child  they 
were  nursing  has  become  the  pedestal  of  a  column. 

37.  Morning  stars:  A  reference  to  the  sublime  description  of  the  creation 
in  the  book  of  Job,  38  :  7 — "  when  the  morning  stars  sang  together,  and  all  the 
sons  of  God  shouted  for  joy."  The  "  sons  of  God"  and  "  the  morning  stars, 
according  to  the  parallelism  in  Hebrew  poetry,  denote  the  same  objects,  and 
these  are  the  angels  of  God.  The  epithet  morning  stars  is  remarkably  ap- 
propriate, alluding  to  the  brilliant  star  which,  during  a  part  of  the  year, 
adorns  the  morning  sky — the  planet  Venus.  In  Rev.  22  :  16,  the  Redeemer 
calls  himself  "the  bright  and  morning  star. 

40.  Strike  ivisdom,  &c. :  An  expression  borrowed  from  the  process  of 
striking  sparks  of  fire  with  flint  upon  steel. 


16 


THE    COMPLAIN!. 


My  soul,  which  flies  to  thee,  her  trust,  her  treasure, 
As  misers  to  their  gold,  while  others  rest. 

Through  this  opaque  of  nature  and  of  soul, 
This  double  night,  transmit  one  pitying  ray, 
To  lighten  and  to  cheer.     Oh,  lead  my  mind  45 

(A  mind  that  fain  would  wander  from  its  woe), 
Lead  it  through  various  scenes  of  life  and  death, 
And  from  each  scene  the  noblest  truths  inspire. 
Nor  less  inspire  my  conduct  than  my  song ; 
Teach  my  best  reason,  reason ;  my  best  will  60 

Teach  rectitude  ;  and  fix  my  firm  resolve 
Wisdom  to  wed,  and  pay  her  long  arrear  : 
Nor  let  the  phial  of  thy  vengeance,  pour'd 
On  this  devoted  head,  be  pour'd  in  vain. 

MY   DEPARTED    HOURS. 

The  bell  strikes  one.     We  take  no  note  of  time  55 

But  from  its  loss  :  to  give  it  then  a  tongue 
Is  wise  in  man.     As  if  an  angel  spoke, 
I  feel  the  solemn  sound.     If  heard  aright, 
It  is  the  knell  of  my  departed  hours. 
Where  are  they  ?  With  the  years  beyond  the  flood.  00 

43.  Tliis  opaque,  <fec. :  This  darkness  of  nature  (at  night)  and  of  my  own  soul. 

47-8.  Various  scenes  of  life  and  death :  If  not  more  eloquent  than  the 
plea  for  immortality,  far  more  useful  and  solid  are  Young's  pictures  of 
death  and  of  the  miseries  of  human  life.  He  is  undoubtedly  the  most  » 
patient  and  powerful  limner  death  ever  had.  He  says,  indeed,  that  "  the 
tyrant  never  sat ;"  he  should  have  added,  "  except  to  me."  To  him,  death 
is  no  vague  shadow — he  is  a  king  of  terrors ;  he  is  an  insatiate  archer ;  lie 
is  a  near,  powerful,  almost  visible  foe.  He  has  known  him  by  direst  ex- 
perience ;  he  hates  him  with  a  personal  and  perfect  hatred ;  for  did  not 
"  his  shaft  fly  thrice,  and  thrice  his  peace  was  slain ;"  and,  like  a  good 
Scottish  author,  he  is  ready  to  "  roar  out  in  his  agony  and  anguish,"  and  to 
shake  the  while  his  fist  in  the  face  of  the  tyrant,  as  he  cries,  I  shall  yet  be 
avenged  of  thee  ;  thou  shalt  be  swallowed  up  in  "  victory." — Gilkij.lax. 

59.  Knell :  The  clock,  as  it  strikes,  may  be  regarded  as  warning  us  of  depart- 
ed hours,  just  as  the  tolling  church  bell  admonishes  us  of  departed  friends. 
It  is  also  a  signal  (61)  of  important  business  to  be  speedily  accomplished. 


NIGHT    I.  77 

It  is  the  signal  that  demands  despatch : 

How  much  is  to  be  done !     My  hopes  and  fears 

Start  up  alarm'd,  and  o'er  life's  narrow  verge 

Look  down — on  what  ?     A  fathomless  abyss  ; 

A  dread  eternity !  how  surely  mine  !  fio 

And  can  eternity  belong  to  me, 

Poor  pensioner  on  the  bounties  of  an  hour  ? 

CONTRASTS    IN   MAN. 

How  poor,  how  rich,  how  abject,  how  august, 
How  complicate,  how  wonderful  is  man  ! 
How  passing  wonder  HE  who  made  him  such  !  70 

Who  centred  in  our  make  such  strange  extremes  1 
From  diff 'rent  natures,  marvellously  mix'd, 
Connection  exquisite  of  distant  worlds ! 
Distinguish'd  link  in  being's  endless  chain  ! 
Midway  from  nothing  to  the  Deity  !  75 

A  beam  ethereal,  sullied  and  absorpt ! 
Though  sullied  and  dishonour'd,  still  divine ! 
Dim  miniature  of  greatness  absolute  ! 
An  heir  of  glory  !  a  frail  child  of  dust ! 

Helpless  immortal !  insect  infinite !  80 

A  worm  !  a  god ! — I  tremble  at  myself, 
And  in  myself  am  lost.     At  home,  a  stranger, 
Thought  wanders  up  and  down,  surprised,  aghast, 
And  wond'ring  at  her  own.     How  reason  reels  ! 
0  what  a  miracle  to  man  is  man,  85 

Triumphantly  distress'd !  what  joy !  what  dread ! 
Alternately  transported  and  alarm'd ! 
What  can  preserve  my  life  ?  or  what  destroy  ? 

68.  How  poor,  hoio  rich,  &c. :  This  passage  is  remarkable  for  the  opposite 
lights  in  which  man  is  presented,  and  displays  to  great  advantage  the  au- 
thor's fondness  for  bringing  out  contrasts.  The  reader  will  notice  the  follow- 
ing— poor,  rich;  abject,  august ;  from  nothing  to  the  Deity :  miniature  of  great  • 
ncss  absolute;  heir  of  glory,  child  of  dust ;  insect  infinite:  a  wonn,  a  god  ;  tyc. 

84.  Her  oivn:  Her  own  properties,  condition,  and  prospects. 


78 


THK    COMPLAINT. 


An  angel's  arm  can't  snatch  me  from  the  grave ; 

Legions  of  angels  can't  confine  me  there.  00 

NIGHT    PROCLAIMS    THE    SOUL    IMMORTAL. 

'Tis  past  conjecture :  all  things  rise  in  proof. 
While  o'er  my  limbs  sleep's  soft  dominion  spreads, 
What  though  my  soul  fantastic  measures  trod 
O'er  fairy  fields,  or  mourn'd  along  the  gloom 
Of  pathless  woods,  or,  down  the  craggy  steep  95 

Hurl'd  headlong,  swam  with  pain  the  mantled  pool, 
Or  scaled  the  cliff,  or  danced  on  hollow  winds 
With  antic  shapes,  wild  natives  of  the  brain  ? 
Her  ceaseless  flight,  tho'  devious,  speaks  her  nature 
Of  subtler  essence  than  the  trodden  clod,  100 

Active,  aerial,  towering,  unconfined, 
Unfetter'd  with  her  gross  companion's  fall. 
E'en  silent  night  proclaims  my  soul  immortal : 
E'en  silent  night  proclaims  eternal  day. 

For  human  weal  Heav'n  husbands  all  events  :  105 

Dull  sleep  instructs,  nor  sport  vain  dreams  in  vain. 

THE    BURIED    LIVE. 

Why  then  their  loss  deplore  that  are  not  lost  ? 
Why  wanders  wretched  thought  their  tombs  around 
In  infidel  distress  ?     Are  angels  there  ? 
Slumbers,  raked  up  in  dust,  ethereal  fire  ?  110 

They  live,  they  greatly  live  a  life  on  earth 

96.  Mantled:  The  idea  is  probably  that  which  Thomson  more  fully  ex- 
presses in  his  "  Summer." 

"  -where  the  pool 
stands  mantled  o'er  with  green,  etc., 
105.  Husbands  all  events:  Directs  skilfully,  or  makes  useful    all  events. 
Even  sleep,  and  fantastic  dreams,  are  not  without  their  moral  use. 

110.  Slumbers,  raked  up,  &c. :  Does  ethereal  fire  (the  soul)  slumber,  cov- 
ered up  in  dust;  in  the  dust  of  the  body  it  once  occupied? 

111.  They  greatly  live,  &c. :  They,  in  an  emphatic  sense,  live  a  life  which 
on  earth  was  unkindlod,  unconceived  :  their  life  is  of  a  far  superior  order  to 
what  they  passed  or  conceived  on  earth.     Instead,  therefore,  of  being  proper 


NIGHT    I.  79 

Unkindlcd,  uncouceived  ;  and  from  an  eye 

Of  tenderness  let  heav'nly  pity  fall 

On  me,  more  justly  number'd  with  the  dead. 

This  is  the  desert,  this  the  solitude  :  115 

How  populous,  how  vital  is  the  grave  ! 

This  is  creation's  melancholy  vault, 

The  vale  funereal,  the  sad  cypress  gloom, 

The  land  of  apparitions,  empty  shades  ! 

All,  all  on  earth  is  shadow,  all  beyond  120 

Is  substance  ;  the  reverse  is  folly's  creed  : 

How  solid  all  where  change  shall  be  no  more  ! 

THIS    LIFE,    ONLY    THE    COMMENCEMENT    OF    BEING. 

This  is  the  bud  of  being,  the  dim  dawn, 
The  twilight  of  our  day,  the  vestibule. 

objects  of  pity,  they  let  fall  upon  us,  inhabitants  of  this  world,  the  tear  of 
pity,  and  more  justly  may  denominate  us  the  dead,  than  be  regarded  them- 
selves as  the  dead.     The  thought  is  an  ingenious  and  striking  one. 

115.  This  is  the  desert,  &c. :  This  (scene  of  human  life)  is  the  desert,  &c. ; 
another  striking  thought.  We  are  accustomed  to  speak  of  the  grave  as  a 
tolitude,  a  desert ;  but,  says  our  author,  this  is  a  mistake.  The  grave  is  more 
populous,  more  vital  (full  of  that  which  had  enjoyed  life),  than  the  earth's 
surface.  The  dead  are  more  numerous  than  the  living.  In  another  place, 
Young  says  : — "  Where  is  the  dust  which  has  not  been  alive  V} 

118.  Sad  cypress  gloom  ;  The  branches  of  the  cypress  awaken  feelings  of 
sadness  from  association,  as  they  were  anciently  borne  in  funereal  processions, 
and  in  the  East,  to  this  day,  the  evergreen  cypress  forms  an  appropriate  or- 
nament of  the  grave-yard. 

123.  Bud  of  being :  The  author  employs  a  great  variety  of  figures  to  con- 
vey forcibly  the  idea  that  in  this  life  we  have  scarcely  begun  to  live  ;  that 
our  principal  career  lies  beyond  the  present  scene  of  things.  This  is  com- 
pared to  a  bud,  or  flower  yet  unexpanded :  next,  to  the  dim  dawn,  or  early 
ticilight,  which  is  followed  by  a  long  and  brilliant  day ;  next,  to  the  vestibide 
of  a  theatre — the  porch,  or  entrance  chamber.  The  theatre  itself  is  repre- 
sented as  being  yet  shut,  and  its  doors  are  opened  only  to  the  strong  arm  of 
death.  When  this  takes  place  we  shall  then  witness  those  scenes  which  are 
more  worthy  of  the  name  of  life  than  the  present  state  exhibits. 

The  author,  to  impress  the  same  thought,  metaphorically  denominates  us, 
m  the  present  state,  mere  embryos  of  existence — beings  not  yet  fully  formed 
to  enjoy  or  to  possess  existence. 


80  THE    COMPLAINT. 

Life's  theatre  as  yet  is  shut,  and  Death,  125 

Strong  Death,  alone  can  heave  the  massy  bar, 

This  gross  impediment  of  clay  remove, 

And  make  us  embryos  of  existence  free. 

From  real  hfe,  but  little  more  remote 

Is  he,  not  yet  a  candidate  for  light,  130 

The  future  embryo,  slumb'ring  in  his  sire. 

Embryos  we  must  be  till  we  burst  the  shell, 

Yon  ambient  azure  shell,  and  spring  to  hfe, 

The  hfe  of  Gods  (0  transport !)  and  of  man. 

THE    BURIAL    OF    CELESTIAL    HOPES. 

Yet  man,  fool  man,  here  buries  all  his  thoughts  ;  135 

Intere  celestial  hopes  without  one  sigh : 
Pris'ner  of  earth,  and  pent  beneath  the  moon, 
Here  pinions  all  his  wishes,  wing'd  by  Heav'n 
To  fly  at  infinite,  and  reach  it  there, 

Where  seraphs  gather  immortality,  140 

On  life's  fair  tree,  fast  by  the  throne  of  God. 
What  golden  joys  ambrosial  clust'ring  glow 

133.  Yon  ambient  azure  shell :  The  blue  sky. 

134.  The  life  of  gods:  The  life  of  angels.  The  author  very  frequently  in 
this  poem,  uses  the  term  gods  in  this  subordinate  sense;  sometimes  also  to 
denote  men  in  the  heavenly  state,  (Night  IV.  496)  from  the  immense  ad- 
vancement which  they  shall  have  there  attained  in  all  that  ennobles  our 
nature  and  renders  it  happy.     Thus  in  Mght  III.,  432-7. 

"  A  good  man  and  an  angel  !  these  between 
How  thin  the  barrier !  what  divides  their  fate  ? 
Perhaps  a  moment,  or  perhaps  a  year; 
Or  if  an  age  it  is  a  moment  still ; 
A  moment,  or  eternity's  forgot. 
Then  be  what  once  they  were  who  now  are  gods." 

135.  Here  pinions  all  his  wishes,  &c. :  Here  binds  the  wings  of  all  his 
wishes.  Our  wishes  are  represented  as  furnished  with  wings  capable  of 
bearing  us  upward  to  infinite  (to  infinity),  that  is,  to  enjoyments  immeasur- 
ably superior  to  those  found  on  earth.  But  man,  fool  man,  confines  his 
wishes  to  the  low  and  inferior  objects  of  earth. 

14:.'.  Golden  joys  ambrosial:  Rich,  mellow  fruits,  of  fragrant  odour,  and 
yielding  the  highest  joys. 


NIGHT    I.  81 

In  his  full  beam,  and  ripen  for  the  just, 

Whore  momentary  ages  are  no  more  ! 

"Where  Time,  and  Pain,  and  Chance,  and  Death  expire  !     145 

And  is  it  in  the  flight  of  threescore  years 

To  push  eternity  from  human  thought, 

And  smother  souls  immortal  in  the  dust  ? 

A  soul  immortal,  spending  all  her  fires, 

Wasting  her  strength  in  strenuous  idleness,  150 

Thrown  into  tumult,  raptured  or  alarm'd 

At  aught  this  scene  can  threaten  or  indulge, 

Resembles  ocean  into  tempest  wrought, 

To  waft  a  feather,  or  to  drown  a  fly. 

Where  falls  this  censure?     It  o'erwhelms  myself.  155 

How  was  my  heart  incrusted  by  the  world  ! 
O  how  self-fetter'd  was  my  grov'ling  soul ! 
How,  like  a  worm,  was  I  wrapt  round  and  round 
In  silken  thought,  which  reptile  Fancy  spun, 
Till  darken'd  reason  lay  quite  clouded  o'er  iflO 

With  soft  conceit  of  endless  comfort  here, 
Nor  yet  put  forth  her  wings  to  reach  the  skies  ! 

144.  Momentary  ages  :  The  ages  of  earth  are  but  moments  when  com- 
pared with  immortality. 

153.  Resembles  ocean,  &c. :  What  can  be  more  expressive  of  the  absurdity 
of  human  conduct  than  this  original  simile  !  It  embraces  somewhat  of  the 
ludicrous,  in  order  to  convey  the  severer  censure. 

158.  Like  a  icorm,  &c. :  A  silkworm.  The  figure,  though  appropriate,  is 
carried  out  perhaps  to  an  extent  beyond  what  good  taste  approves.  It  will 
be  better  understood  from  an  account  of  the  habits  of  this  animal.  The  silk- 
worm (says  Brande),  in  its  caterpillar  state,  which  may  be  considered  as  the 
first  stage  of  its  existence,  after  acquiring  its  full  growth  (about  three  inches 
in  length\  proceeds  to  enclose  itself  in  an  oval-shaped  ball  or  cocoon,  which 
is  formed  by  an  exceedingly  slender  and  long  filament  of  fine,  yellow  silk, 
emitted  from  the  stomach  of  the  insect  preparatory  to  its  assuming  the  shape 
of  the  chrysalis  or  moth.  In  this  latter  stage,  after  emancipating  itself  from 
its  silken  prison,  it  seeks  its  mate,  which  has  undergone  a  similar  transform- 
ation ;  and  in  two  or  three  days  afterwards,  the  female  having  deposited  her 
eggs  (from  300  to  500  in  number) ,  both  insects  terminate  their  existence. 

4* 


82  THE    COMPLAINT. 


"WAKING    DREAMS    FATAL. 


Night  visions  may  befriend  (as  sung  above  :) 
Our  waking  dreams  are  fatal.  How  I  dreamt 
Of  things  impossible  !  (could  sleep  do  more  ?)  165 

Of  joys  perpetual  in  perpetual  change  ! 
Of  stable  pleasures  on  the  tossing  wave ! 
Eternal  sunshine  in  the  storms  of  life  ! 
How  richly  were  my  noontide  trances  hung 
With  gorgeous  tapestries  of  pictured  joys  !  1 70 

Joy  behind  joy,  in  endless  perspective ! 
Till  at  Death's  toll,  whose  restless  iron  tongue 
Calls  daily  for  his  millions  at  a  meal, 
Starting  I  woke,  and  found  myself  undone. 
Where  now  my  frenzy's  pompous  furniture?  1*75 

The  cobwebb'd  cottage,  with  its  ragged  wall 
Of  mould'ring  mud,  is  royalty  to  me ! 
The  spider's  most  attenuated  thread 
Is  cord,  is  cable,  to  man's  tender  tie 
On  earthly  bliss  ;  it  breaks  at  every  breeze.  180 

PERPETUITY    ESSENTIAL    TO    BLISS. 

O  ye  blest  scenes  of  permanent  delight1. 
Full  above  measure !  lasting  beyond  bound ! 
A  perpetuity  of  bliss  is  bliss. 
Could  you,  so  rich  in  rapture,  fear  an  end, 

170.  Tapestries :  Hangings  of  wool  and  silk,  often  interlaid  with  gold  and 
silver,  and  adorned  with  figures  of  men,  animals,  landscapes,  &c. 

173.  Millions  at  a  meal,  &c. :  Death  is  represented  in  this  passage  as  a  hun- 
gry, insatiate,  and  gigantic  monster.  An  allusion  is  made,  perhaps,  to  the 
fabled  Polyphemus  of  Homer's  Odyssey,  who,  like  a  beast  of  prey,  devoured 
in  his  cave  several  of  the  companions  of  Ulysses. 

181.  Yc  blest  scenes  :  Those  of  immortality,  here  contrasted  with  earthly 
scenes,  and  their  vast  superiority  shown- 

184.  Fear  an  end :  The  word  end  should  receive,  in  reading,  a  strong  em- 
phasis, that  the  full  meaning  of  the  passage  may  be  reached. 


NIGHT    I.  B.S 

That  ghastly  thought  would  drink  up  all  your  joy,  1 85 

And  quite  unparadise  the  realms  of  light. 

Safe  are  you  lodged  above  these  rolling  spheres ; 

The  baleful  influence  of  whose  giddy  dance 

Sheds  sad  vicissitude  on  all  beneath. 

Here  teems  with  revolutions  every  hour,  190 

And  rarely  for  the  better  ;or  the  best, 

More  mortal  than  the  common  births  of  Fate. 

Each  moment  has  its  sickle,  emulous 

Of  Time's  enormous  sithe,  whose  ample  sweep 

Strikes  empires  from  the  root :  each  moment  plays  195 

186.  Unparadise  the  realms  of  light :  That  is,  destroy  their  peculiar  at- 
tractiveness, and  their  power  to  satisfy  the  cravings  of  the  soul. 

1SS.  Baleful  influence  :  Allusion  is  here  made  to  the  exploded  astrological 
notion  that  the  sun,  moon,  planets,  and  stars,  in  certain  positions  at  the  time 
of  one's  birth,  exert  a  deleterious  influence  over  his  earthly  destiny.  Great 
prominence  is  given  to  the  absurd  doctrines  of  astrology  in  Milton's  Paradise 
Lost,  Book  X.,  656— GC3  :— 

"  To  the  blank  moon 
Her  office  they  prescribed ;  to  the  other  five 
Their  planetary  motions  and  aspects 
In  sextile,  square,  and  trine,  and  opposite 
Of  noxious  efficacy  ;  and  when  to  join 
In  synod  unhenign  ;  and  taught  the  fixed 
Their  influence  malignant,  &c." 

Absurd  as  this  doctrine,  of  determining  men's  fates  by  the  relative  position 
of  the  heavenly  bodies,  may  appear  to  us,  it  was  held  among  all  the  ancient 
nations,  and  has  continued  even  to  the  present  day  in  some  countries. 
"Only  a  short  period  has  elapsed,"  says  Dr.  Thomas  Dick,  "since  the 
princes  and  legislators  of  Europe  were  directed  in  the  most  important  con- 
cerns of  the  state  by  the  predictions  of  astrologers.  In  the  time  of  Queen 
Catharine  de  Medicis,  astrology  was  so  much  in  vogue,  that  nothing,  how- 
ever trifling,  was  to  be  done  without  consulting  the  stars." 

190.  Here,  &c. :   On  this  earth  every  hour  teems  with  revolutions. 

191.  Or  the  best,  &c. :  The  best  revolutions,  or  changes,  are  more  mortal, 
more  short-lived  lhan  common  events  (common  births  of  fate) . 

193.  Each  moment,  &c. :  A  beautiful  parallel  is  run  in  this  passage  be- 
tween each  moment  with  its  sickle,  and  Time  with  its  enormous  sithe  ;  the 
one  operating  fatally  upon  the  sweet  comforts  of  domestic  life,  the  other  in 
its  ampler  sweep  laying  empires  in  the  dust.  The  personification  of  moment 
and  time  is  admirably  sustained. 


84  THE    COMPLAINT. 

His  little  weapon  in  the  narrower  sphere 
Of  sweet  domestic  comfort  and  cuts  down 
The  fairest  bloom  of  sublunary  bliss. 

Bliss !  sublunary  bliss  ! — proud  words,  and  vain  ! 
Implicit  treason  to  divine  decree!  200 

A  bold  invasion  of  the  rights  of  Heav'n ! 
I  clasp' d  the  phantoms,  and  I  found  them  ah. 
O  had  I  weigh'd  it  ere  my  fond  embrace ! 
What  darts  of  agony  had  miss'd  my  heart ! 

DOMESTIC    GRIEFS. 

Death  !  great  proprietor  of  all !  'tis  thine  205 

To  tread  out  empire,  and  to  quench  the  stars. 
The  sun  himself  by  thy  permission  shines, 
And,  one  day,  thou  shalt  pluck  him  from  his  sphere. 
Amidst  such  mighty  plunder,  why  exhaust 
Thy  partial  quiver  on  a  mark  so  mean  ?  210 

Why  thy  peculiar  rancour  wreak'd  on  me  ? 
Insatiate  archer  !  could  not  one  suffice  ? 
Thy  shaft  flew  thrice,  and  thrice  my  peace  was  slain ; 
And  thrice,  ere  thrice  yon  moon  had  fill'd  her  horn. 

205.  Great  proprietor,  &c. :  The  universal  reign  of  death,  extending  to  em- 
pires, to  the  solar  system,  and  the  stars,  as  well  as  to  individual  members  of 
the  human  family,  is  exhibited  in  a  style  equally  sublime  and  pathetic. 

208.  From  his  sphere :  This  phraseology  is  conformed,  not  to  the  real  slate 
of  things,  but  to  that  exploded  system  of  astronomy  according  to  which 
the  heavenly  bodies  were  each  placed  in  an  immense  crystalline  hollow 
firm  globe  or  sphere  perfectly  transparent,  which  revolved  and  carried 
around  the  heavenly  bedy  that  was  set  in  it.  The  term  sphere  is  sometimes 
applied  to  the  orbit  in  which  such  a  body  moves  ;  the  course  it  describes. 

210.  Partial  quiver,  &c. :  Why  expend  your  arrows  so  disproportionately 
upon  me  ;  more  copiously  than  upon  other  men? 

214.  Ere  thrice  yon  moon,  &c. :  Ere  three  lunar  months  had  elapsed.  The 
author  here  refers  to  the  death  of  three  beloved  relatives,  which  occurred 
in  rapid  succession,  though  not  within  so  short  a  period  as,  with  a  sort  of 
poetic  license,  under  the  influence  of  grief,  the  author  here  represents  the 
case.  These  relatives  were  his  wife;  her  daughter  by  a  former  husband, 
bearing  in  the  poem  the  name  of  Narcissa;  and,  probably,  the  brother  of 


NIGHT    1.  85 

0  Cynthia  !  why  so  pale  ?  dost  thou  lament  215 

Thy  wretched  neighbour  ?  grieve  to  see  thy  wheel 

Of  ceaseless  change  out  whir  I'd  in  human  life  ! 

How  wanes  my  borrow' d  bliss !  from  Fortune's  smile, 

Precarious  courtesy  !  not  virtue's  sure, 

Self-given,  solar  ray  of  sound  delight.  220 

THE  PAST  CONTRASTED  WITH  THE  PRESEXT. 

In  ev'ry  varied  posture,  place,  and  hour, 

Narcissa,  an  officer  in  the  army,  who  is  thought  by  some  to  have  been  de- 
scribed under  the  name  of  Philander.  According  to  one  account  these  all  died 
in  1741,  which  comports  with  the  language  of  this  passage;  but  according 
to  that  found  in  Johnson's  Lives  of  the  Poets.  Mrs.  Temple  died  in  1736, 
Mr.  Temple  in  1740  (supposed  to  be  referred  to  under  the  name  of  Philan- 
der), and  Mrs.  Young  in  1741.  To  these  individuals  there  will  be  occasion 
soon  to  refer  again. 

It  may  be  remarked  that  this  last  account  renders  it  necessary  to  suppose 
an  enormous  poetic  license  in  the  use  of  such  language  as 

'■  And  thrice  ere  thrice  yon  moon  had  filled  her  horn." 
The  repetition  of  this  emphatic  word  four  times  in  two  lines  deserves 
remark  as  an  instance  of  our  author's  aiming  at  effect,  and  here,  at  the  ex- 
pense of  historical  truthfulness,  if  the  last  account  is  reliable.  The  objection 
to  refer  Philander  to  Mr.  Temple  is,  that  in  Night  III.  that  person  is  de- 
scribed as  dying  just  before  Narcissa ;  but  we  may  regard  this  anachronism 
as  a  matter  of  poetic  license. 

215.  G  Cynthia  :  The  address  to  the  moon  (which  received  the  name  of 
Cynthia  from  the  Latin  poets) ,  is  equally  ingenious  and  pathetic.  The 
author  greatly  admired  Ihis  luminary,  and  frequently  poured  out  to  her  his 
emotions  of  tender  regard,  as  at  the  beginning  of  the  Third  Night. 

21 G.  Neighbour:  The  poet  himself. 

218-20.  How  icanes,  &c. :  The  term  here  used  is  more  appropriate  than 
s>ny  other,  from  its  allusion  to  the  diminishing  visible  surface  of  the  moon  in 
the  last  two  quarters  of  each  revolution  around  the  earth.  The  lines  that 
follow  are  quite  obscure,  but  their  meaning  may  be  expressed  thus: — How 
the  bliss  diminishes  which  I  borrowed  from  Fortune's  smile  (a  courtesy  of 
uncertain  and  brief  duration),  not  from  Virtue's  sun,  self-given,  solar  ray  of 
sound  delight !  The  smile  of  Fortune  is  precarious,  depending  on  contingen- 
cies :  Virtue  sends  out,  like  the  sun,  a  sure  ray,  proceeding  from  itsdf,  an  un 
changing  source  of  bliss. 


66  THE    COMI'LAINT. 

How  widow'd  ev'ry  thought  of  ev'ry  joy ! 

Thought,  busy  thought !  too  busy  for  my  peace  ! 

Through  the  dark  postern  of  time  long  elapsed, 

Led  softly,  by  the  stillness  of  the  night,  225 

Led,  like  a  murderer,  (and  such  it  proves  !) 

Strays  (wretched  rover  !)  o'er  the  pleasing  past : 

In  quest  of  wretchedness  perversely  strays, 

And  finds  all  desert  now  ;  and  meets  the  ghosts 

Of  my  departed  joys,  a  num'rous  train!  230 

I  rue  the  riches  of  my  former  fate ; 

Sweet  Comfort's  blasted  clusters  I  lament ; 

I  tremble  at  the  blessings  once  so  dear, 

And  ev'ry  pleasure  pains  me  to  the  heart. 

Yet  why  complain  ?  or  why  complain  for  one  ?  235 

Hangs  out  the  sun  his  lustre  but  for  me, 
The  single  man  ?  are  angels  all  beside  ? 
I  mouru  for  millions  ;  'tis  the  common  lot : 
In  this  shape  or  in  that  has  Fate  entail'd 

222.  Widow'd:   Stripped. 

224.  Postern  of  time :  Back  door  or  gate  of  time.  Allusion  is  made  to  a 
small  private  door  in  the  rear  wall  of  a  castle  or  fortification,  the  passage  to 
which  was  usually  narrow  and  dark. 

229.  Ghosts,  etc  :  Mere  images  of  my  departed  joys. 

231.  I  rue,  Sic:  I  regret  the  riches  of  my  former  condition,  ere  these 
sad  bereavements  were  encountered. 

232.  Comfort'' s  blasted  clusters :  A  beautiful  allusion  to  a  fruitful  grape 
vine  prematurely  injured  by  the  frost. 

237.  Arc  angels  all  beside  ?  Are  none  of  the  human  race  mortal  but  my- 
self; are  they  angels  removed  beyond  the  reach  of  sorrow? 

239.  Has  Fate  entailed:  The  primary  idea  expressed  by  the  word  Fate 
being  false,  it  should  not  have  been  used  by  a  Christian  poet.  The  best 
apology  that  can  be  made  for  him,  is  to  suppose  that  he  uses  it  as  a  brief  ex- 
pression of  the  same  import  as  Divine  Providence.  According  to  many 
heathen  Philosophers,  fate,  or  destiny,  was  a  secret  and  invisible  power,  or 
virtue,  which  with  incomprehensible  wisdom  regulated  all  those  occurrences 
of  this  world  which  to  human  eyes  appear  irregular  and  fortuitous.  The 
Stoics,  on  the  other  hand,  understood  by  destiny  a  certain  concatenation  of 
things,  which  from  all  eternity  follow  each  other  of  absolute  necessity 


NIGHT    I.  87 

The  mother's  throes  on  all  of  woman  born,  240 

Not  more  the  children  than  sure  heirs  of  pain. 

EVILS    THAT    BESIEGE    MANKIND. 

War,  Famine,  Pest,  Volcano,  Storm,  and  Fire, 
Intestine  broils,  Oppression,  with  her  heart 
Wrapt  up  in  triple  brass,  besiege  mankind. 
God's  image,  disinherited  of  day,  245 

Here,  plunged  in  mines,  forgets  a  sun  was  made  ; 
There,  beings,  deathless  as  their  haughty  lord, 
Are  hammer'd  to  the  galling  oar  for  life ; 
And  plough  the  winter's  wave  and  reap  despair. 
Some  for  hard  masters,  broken  under  arms,  250 

In  battle  lopp'd  away  with  half  their  limbs, 
Beg  bitter  bread  through  realms  their  valour  saved, 
If  so  the  tyrant  or  his  minion  doom. 
Want  and  incurable  disease,  (fell  pair  !) 

On  hopeless  multitudes  remorseless  seize  255 

At  once,  and  make  a  refuge  of  the  grave. 
How  groaning  hospitals  eject  their  dead  ! 
What  numbers  groan  for  sad  admission  there  ! 
What  n  umbel's,  once  in  Fortune's  lap  high-fed, 
Solicit  the  cold  hand  of  charity !  260 

To  shock  us  more,  solicit  it  in  vain  ! 

there  being  no  power  able  to  interrupt  their  connexion.  To  this  invisible 
power  even  the  gods  were  compelled  to  succumb.  See  Brande's  Dictionary. 
2-46.  Forgets  a  sun  ivas  made:  He  has  been  so  long  engaged  under  ground 
in  mining  operations,  without  coming  up  to  the  light,  that  he  forgets  the 
existence  of  the  sun:  of  course  he  foregoes  the  pleasures  and  advantages  of 
his  delightful  beams.  It  is  said,  that  in  some  of  the  deep  mines  in  EnglanJ 
rooms  are  constructed  for  the  accommodation  of  families  ;  and  that  children 
are  there  born,  and  arrive  at  maturity,  without  ever  seeing  the  wonders  and 
beauties  of  the  world  above  ground. 

250.  Broken  under  arms,  &c. :  Injured  in  military  service,  with  half  their 
limbs  lopp'd  away  in  battle.  Other  editions  place  a  comma  after  away 
which  obscures  the  sense,  unless  we  give  an  unauthorized  meaning  to  the 
word  before  it. 


88  THE    COMPLAINT. 

Ye  silken  sons  of  Pleasure  !  since  in  pains 

You  rue  more  modish  visits,  "visit  here, 

And  breathe  from  your  debauch ;  give,  and  reduce 

Surfeit's  dominion  o'er  you.     But  so  great  26/> 

Your  impudence,  you  blush  at  what  is  right. 

DISEASE    AND    DEATH    ARE    UNDISCRIMINATING. 

Happy !  did  sorrow  seize  on  such  alone : 
Not  prudence  can  defend,  or  virtue  save  ; 
Disease  invades  the  chastest  temperance, 

And  punishment  the  guiltless;  and  alarm,  270 

Through  thickest  shades,  pursues  the  fond  of  peace. 
Man's  caution  often  into  danger  turns, 
And,  his  guard  falling,  crushes  him  to  death. 
Not  happiness  herself  makes  good  her  name ; 
Our  very  wishes  give  us  not  our  wish.  27o 

How  distant  oft  the  thing  we  doat  on  most 
From  that  for  which  we  doat,  felicity ! 
The  smoothest  course  of  Nature  has  its  pains, 
And  truest  friends,  through  error,  wound  our  rest. 
Without  misfortune  what  calamities  !  280 

x\nd  what  hostilities  without  a  foe  ! 

262-3.  Since  in  pains  you  rue,  &c. :  Since,  in  a  state  of  pain,  (engendered 
by  disease)  you  lament  more  fashionable  visits — visits  to  places  of  dissipa- 
tion, more  fashionable  and  more  common  than  the  visits  to  a  hospital  here 
recommended.     Visit  here:  visit  the  groaning  hospitals  (257). 

2G4.  Give,  and  reduce,  &c. :  Spend  seme  of  your  money  upon  the  needy 
objects  you  will  find  in  the  hospital ;  and  thus  have  less  to  spend  upon 
yourself  in  excessive  sensual  gratifications. 

267.  Such  alone:  The  sons  of  pleasure  (262). 

270.  The  guiltless:  That  is,  those  comparatively  so. 

■213.  His  guard :  That  structure  which  had  been  erected  for  a  defence. 

275.  Our  very  wishes,  &c. :  That  is,  our  very  wishes,  even  when  the  ob- 
jects were  attained,  have  not  given  us  the  felicity  which  we  anticipated. 

280-1.  Without  misfortune,  &c. :  That  is,  although  we  should  be  exempt 
from  signal  adversities,  yet  there  are  calamities  to  be  encountered ;  and 
though  we  have  no  open  foe,  we  meet  with  events  hostile  to  our  peace  and 
welfare 


NIGHT   I.  S\f 

Nor  are  foes  -wanting  to  the  best  on  earth. 

But  endless  is  the  list  of  human  ills, 

And  sighs  might  sooner  fail  than  cause  to  sigh. 

THE  MAP  OF  EARTH,  A  TRUE  MAP  OF  MAN. 

A  part  how  small  of  the  terraqueous  globe  285 

Is  tenanted  by  man  !  the  rest  a  vi  1 1 
Rocks,  deserts,  frozen  seas,  and  burning  sands  ! 
Wild  haunts  of  monsters,  poisons,  stings,  and  death. 
Such  is  earth's  melancholy  map  !  but  far 
More  sad  !  this  earth  is  a  true  map  of  man  :  290 

So  bounded  are  its  haughty  lord's  delights 
To  woe's  wide  empire,  where  deep  troubles  toss, 
Loud  sorrows  howl,  envenom'd  passions  bite, 
Eav'nous  calamities  our  vitals  seize, 
And  threat'ning  Fate  wide  opens  to  devour.  295 

HUMAN    HAPPINESS    EVANESCENT. 

What  then  am  I,  who  sorrow  for  myself? 
In  age,  in  infancy,  from  others'  aid 
Is  all  our  hope  ;  to  teach  us  to  be  kind — 
That  Nature's  first,  last  lesson  to  mankind : 
The  selfish  heart  deserves  the  pain  it  feels :  300 

More  gen'rous  sorrow,  while  it  sinks,  exalts ; 
And  conscious  virtue  mitigates  the  pang. 
Nor  virtue  more  than  prudence  bids  me  give 
Swoln  thought  a  second  channel ;  who  divide, 
They  weaken,  too,  the  torrent  of  their  grief.  305 

284.  Than  cause  to  sigh,    should  fail. 

295.  Fate :  Death,  or  the  grave. 

301.  While  it  sinks,  exalts :  While  it  sinks  our  spirits,  exalts  our  character, 
improves  our  feelings. 

303-4.  Bids  me  give  swoln  thought  a  second  channel :  That  is,  bids  me 
relieve  myself  of  excessive  grief  by  learning  to  pity  the  woes  of  others ; 
or,  bids  me  not  confine  the  torrent  of  grief  to  my  own  sufferings,  but  also 
to  direct  it  generously  to  those  of  others.  A  swollen  torrent  is  reduced 
by  being  conducled  in  part  into  a  second  channel. 


90  rut;    COMPLAINT. 

Take,  then,  0  world !  thy  much  indebted  tear ; 

How  sad  a  sight  is  human  happiness 

To  those  whose  thought  can  pierce  beyond  an  hour ! 

0  thou  !  whate'er  thou  art,  whose  heart  exults ! 

Would  thou  I  should  congratulate  thy  fate  ?  310 

1  know  thou  wouldst ;  thy  pride  demands  it  from  me. 
Let  thy  pride  pardon  what  thy  nature  needs, 

The  salutary  censure  of  a  friend. 

Thou  happy  wretch  !  by  blindness  thou  art  blest ; 

By  dotage  dandled  to  perpetual  smiles.  315 

Know,  smiler  !  at  thy  peril  art  thou  pleased ; 

Thy  pleasure  is  the  promise  of  thy  pain. 

Misfortune,  like  a  creditor  severe, 

But  rises  in  demand  of  her  delay ; 

She  makes  a  scourge  of  past  prosperity,  320 

To  sting  thee  more,  and  double  thy  distress. 

THE    FAVOURS    OF    FORTUNE    MAY   JUSTLY    CAUSE    ALARM. 

Lorenzo,  Fortune  makes  her  court  to  thee  : 

306.  Thy  much  indebted  tear :  The  tear  I  have  long  owed  thee. 

321.  To  sting  thee  more,  &c. :  This  passage  suggests  a  somewhat  similar 
remark  of  Caesar,  in  his  Commentaries,  Book  I.  ch.  14.  "  Consuesse  enim 
Peos  immortales,  quo  gravius  homines  ex  commutatione  rerun)  doleant, 
quos  pro  scelere  eorum  ulcisci  velint,  his  secundiores  interdum  les  et  diutur- 
niorem  impunitatem  concedere." 

322.  Lorenzo:  It  has  been  disputed  whether  the  individual  bearing  this 
name,  and  so  frequently  addressed  in  this  poem,  was  the  son  of  the  author, 
(which  was  for  a  time  the  common  opinion),  or  a  fictitious  character,  which 
has,  however,  its  counterpart  in  almost  every  community.  Evidence  may 
be  collected  from  the  poem  itself  and  known  incidents,  to  show  that  the  for- 
mer opinion  is  unfounded.  He  is  never  addressed,  or  spoken  of,  as  his  son, 
and  things  are  attributed  to  him  which  seem  not  1o  be  consistent  with  tha* 
opinion;  for  example,  in  the  line  here  quoted,  it  is  said,  "Fortune  makes 
her  court  to  thee."  In  Night  V.  he  is  represented  as  "burning  for  the  sub- 
lime of  life,  to  hang  his  airy  seat  on  high."  In  Night  VIII.  he  is  described 
as  having  "travelled  far;"  and  in  Night  V., 

"So  V;e;  t  Lorenzo  fail  Clarissa's  Arte  ; 

Who  gave  that  angel  boy  on  whom  ho  dotes." 


KIGHT    I.  91 

Thy  fond  heart  dances  while  the  syren  sings. 

Dear  is  thy  welfare  ;  think  me  not  unkind ; 

I  would  not  damp,  hut  to  secure,  thy  joys.  325 

Think  not  that  fear  is  sacred  to  the  storm, 

Stand  on  thy  guard  against  the  smiles  of  Fate. 

Is  Heav'n  tremendous  in  its  frowns  ?  most  sure  ; 

And  in  its  favours  formidable  too  : 

So  in  the  beginning  of  the  same  we  read — 

"  Lorenzo,  to  recriminate,  is  just, 
I  grant  the  man  is  vain  who  writes  for  praise." 

The  inapplicability  of  the  above  statements  to  the  son  of  the  author  is  appa- 
rent from  the  fact  that  at  the  time  the  Night  Thoughts  referred  to  were 
composed,  his  son  (he  had  but  one)  was  only  from  eight  to  twelve  years  old. 
But  the  poem  either  broadly  asserts,  or  plainly  implies,  that  the  Lorenzo 
intended  by  the  author  was  an  accomplished  man  of  the  world,  a  man  of 
unbounded  ambition,  an  infidel  blasphemer,  and  a  careless  libertine.  We 
agree  then  with  Chambers  in  the  opinion,  that  it  seems  tj  be  a  mere  fancy 
sketch,  and,  like  the  character  of  Childe  Harold,  in  the  hands  of  Byron,  it 
afforded  the  poet  scope  for  dark  and  powerful  painting  and  was  made  the 
vehicle  for  bursts  of  indignant  virtue,  sorrow,  regret,  and  admonition.  This 
aitificial  character,  as  the  same  writer  further  observes,  pervades  the 
whole  poem,  and  is  essentially  a  part  of  its  structure  ;  but  it  still  leaves  to 
our  admiration  many  noble  and  sublime  passages  where  the  poet  speaks  as 
from  inspiration — with  "  the  voice  of  one  crying  in  the  wilderness,"  of  life, 
death,  and  immortality. 

323.  The  syren  sings :  This  name  is  applied  to  Fortune  in  the  previous 
line.  The  Syrens,  or  Sirens,  according  to  ancient  fable,  were  two  or  three 
attractive  females,  or  female  divinities,  dwelling  upon  the  shore  of  Sicily, 
who  by  their  melodious  songs  so  charmed  mariners  sailing  along,  that  they 
slopped  their  vessels,  forgot  their  homes,  and  remained  listening  till  they 
perished  from  hunger.  Another  version  of  the  fable  is,  that  by  their  ravish- 
ing music  they  enticed  men  into  their  hands  and  then  devoured  them. 

Fortune,  poetically  represented  as  a  goddess,  but  in  fact  only  indicating 
the  various  goods  of  a  prosperous  worldly  life,  is,  therefore,  described  here 
as  alluring,  with  a  view  to  injure,  her  favourites,  or  at  least  with  such  a 
tendency. 

325.  But  to  secure,  &c. :  But  with  a  view  to  secure  thy  joys. 

326.  Sacred  to  the  storm:  Due  only  to  the  storm. 

329.  dnd  in  its  favours,  &c. :  In  this  line,  and  the  preceding,  the  author 
drops  the  language  of  figure  and  speaks  plainly.  What  he  had  called  the 
smiles  of  Fortune,  and  of  Fate,  a  phraseology  suited  to  the  notions  of  pagan- 


'•'-  THE    COMPLAINT. 

Its  favours  here  are  trials,  not  rewards  ;  330 

A  call  to  duty,  not  discharge  from  care  ; 

And  should  alarm  us  full  as  much  as  woes  ; 

Awake  us  to  their  cause  and  consequence, 

And  make  us  tremble,  wcigh'd  with  our  desert ; 

Awe  Nature's  tumult,  and  chastise  her  joys,  335 

Lest,  while  we  clasp,  we  kill  them  ;  nay,  invert 

To  worse  than  simple  miseiy  their  charms. 

Revolted  joys,  like  foes  in  civil  war, 

Like  bosom  friendships  to  resentment  sour'd, 

"With  rage  envenom'd  rise  against  our  peace.  340 

Beware  what  earth  calls  happiness  ;  beware 

All  joys  but  joys  that  never  can  expire. 

"Who  builds  on  less  than  an  immortal  base, 

Fond  as  he  seems,  condemns  his  joys  to  death. 

DEATH    OF    PHILANDER. 

Mine  died  with  thee,  Philander  !  thy  last  sigh  345 

Dissolved  the  charm  ;  the  disenchanted  earth 
Lost  all  her  lustre.     Where  her  glitt'ring  towers  ? 
Her  golden  mountains  where  ?  all  darken'd  down 
To  naked  waste ;  a  dreary  vale  of  tears : 
The  great  magician's  dead  !     Thou  poor  pale  piece  350 

ism,  are  here  more  appropriately  and  truly  denominated  the  favours  of 
heaven. 

335.  Nature's  tumult :  The  agitation  or  high  excitement  naturally  spring- 
ing from  great  prosperity. 

338.  Revolted  joys :  Objects  that  once  produced  joy  hut  have  ceased  to 
afford  it. 

344.  Fond,  as  he  seems  :  Much  delighted  (with  them)  as  he  seems. 

345.  Philander:  As  some  suppose,  the  son-in-law  of  the  author,  who,  ac- 
cording to  one  account,  died  in  1736,  and,  according  to  another  in  1741.  But 
compare  note  ("214).  The  expressions  of  the  author's  grief  are,  to  say  the 
least,  quite  as  strong  as  the  circumstances  seem  capable  of  producing,  if  not 
a  little  stronger. 

350.  The  great  magician :  Philander  is  so  called  from  the  wonderful  and 
incomprehensible  charm  which,  when  living,  he  gave  to  earth,  and  to  all  the 
scenes  of  domestic  enjoyment  in  which  he  participated. 


NIGHT    I.  93 

Of  outcast  earth,  in  darkness !  what  a  change 

From  yesterday  !     Thy  darling  hope  so  near, 

(Long  laboured  prize  !)  O  how  ambition  flush'd 

Thy  glowing  cheek  !  ambition,  truly  great, 

Of  virtuous  praise.     Death's  subtle  seed  -within,  355 

(Slv,  treaeh'rous  miner  !)  working  in  the  dark. 

Smiled  at  thy  well-concerted  scheme,  and  beckon'd 

The  -worm  to  rjot  on  that  fob 

Unladed  ere  it  fell ;  one  moment's  prey  ! 

Man's  foresight  is  conditionally  wis    :  360 

Lorenzo  !  wisdom  into  folly  turns 
Oft  the  first  instant  its  idea  f 

To  labouring  thought  is  born.     How  dim  our  eye  ! 
The  present  moment  terminates  our  sight ; 
Clouds,  thick  as  those  on  doomsday,  drown  the  next;         365 
We  penetrate,  we  prophesy  in  vain. 
Time  is  dealt  out  by  particles,  and  each, 
Ere  mingled  with  the  streaming  sands  of  life, 

355.  Of  virtuous  praise :  To  the  credit  of  Philander  it  is  here  asserted  that 
his  glowing  cheek  had  been  flushed  with  the  ambition  of  virtuous  praise,  of 
praise  for  virtuous  deeds :  not  for  deeds  of  questionable  morality  or  of  de- 
cided immorality. 

The  seed  of  Death  is  personified,  though  not  very  properly.  It  is  hard  to 
conceive  of  a  seed  acting  the  part  of  a  miner,  or  exhibiting  treachery,  practis- 
ing smiles,  and  beckoning  to  the  worm.  If  these  things  had  been  said  of 
Death,  the  figure  would  not  have  offended  a  correct  and  delicate  taste. 

360.  Conditionally  wise:  Man's  foresight  is  wise  only  on  conditions  ;  either 
within  certain  narrow  limits,  or  on  the  supposition  that  events  occur  cs  were 
anticipated.  Man's  foresight  is  not  absolute,  irrespective  of  contingencies  or 
unlooked  for  emergencies.  That  the  above  is  a  just  account  of  the  author's 
meaning  is  not  confidently  asserted,  for  the  expression  is  obscure  and  unu- 
sual. 

363.  To  labouring  thought  is  bom  :  Is  produced,  as  the  result  of  painful, 
earnest  thinking. 

365.  Doomsday  :  The  awful  day  of  final  judgment. 

36S.  Streaming  sands  of  life :  Successive  flowing  sands,  or  moments  of  life  ; 
those  that  have  passed  by.  Each  particle  of  Time  is  sworn  not  to  reveal  the 
perioH  ;-  vhere   (a  man's)    eternity  begins." 


94  THE    COMPLAINT. 

By  Fate's  inviolable  oath  is  sworn 

Deep  silence,  "  Where  eternity  begins."  870 

DANGER    OF    PROCRASTINATION. 

By  Nature's  law,  what  may  be,  may  be  now ; 
There's  no  prerogative  in  human  hours. 
In  human  hearts  what  bolder  thought  can  rise 
Than  man's  presumption  on  to-morrow's  dawn  ? 
Where  is  to-morrow  ?     In  another  world.  375 

For  numbers  this  is  certain ;  the  reverse 
Is  sure  to  none  ;  and  yet  on  this  Perhaps, 
This  Perad venture,  infamous  for  lies, 
As  on  a  rock  of  adamant  we  build 

Our  mountain-hopes,  spin  out  eternal  schemes,  3 SO 

As  we  the  Fatal  Sisters  could  outspin, 

372.  No  prerogative  in  human  hours:  No  exclusive  privilege,  no  inalienable 
ownership,  in  human  hours.  Their  continued  possession  cannot  be  counted 
upon. 

374.  Presumption  on  to-morrow7 s  dawn:  The  author  does  not  mean  to 
assert  that  it  is  a  bold  and  unwarrantable  thought  to  calculate  upon  the  oc- 
currence of  to-morrow's  dawn,  but  to  presume  confidently  that  we  shall  our- 
selves live  to  see  it,  and  be  allowed  then  to  prosecute  our  favourite  schemes. 
We  all  have  an  instinctive  and  most  useful  belief  in  the  constancy  of  Nature, 
and  in  the  regular  succession  of  days ;  without  which  belief  all  enterprise  and 
progress  would  be  arrested,  and  human  interests  sadly  neglected  and  de- 
ranged. Still  we  are  not  to  forget,  that  while  the  diurnal  and  annual 
revolutions  of  the  earth  may  continue  in  beautiful  and  mathematical  regula- 
rity, we  at  the  same  time  have  no  ground  for  the  assurance  that  our  own 
earthly  existence  shall  not  terminate  before  another  morrow  greets  the 
world. 

375.  In  another  world :  That  is,  our  to-morrow  may  be  in  another  world ; 
not  in  this. 

377-8.  This  Perhaps,  this  Peradventure ;  this  "it  may  beP  These  adverbs 
are  of  the  same  meaning,  and  are  used,  grammatically,  as  a  substantive,  or 
rather  in  the  place  of  a  substantive  expression,  to  which  the  demonstrative 
this  is  applied. 

381.  Jls  tee,  &c. :  As  if  we  could  outspin  the  Fatal  Sisters.  This  lino 
should  be  inclosed  in  a  parenthesis,  since  it  interrupts  the  grammatical  con- 
nexion between  the   preceding  and  the  following  line.     An  allusion  is  here 


Muru    r.  9i> 

And,  big  with  life's  futiu iii<-s,  expire. 

Not  e'en  Philander  had  bespoke  his  shroud, 
Nor  had  he  cause ;  a  warning  was  denied  : 
How  many  fall  as  sudden,  not  as  safe  ;  385 

As  sudden,  though  for  years  admonish'd  home  ! 
Of  human  ills  the  last  extreme  beware  ; 
Beware,  Lorenzo  !  a  slow  sudden  death. 
How  dreadful  that  deliberate  surprise  ! 

Be  wise  to-day;  'tis  madness  to  defer  :  300 

Next  day  the  fatal  precedent  will  plead ; 
Thus  on,  till  wisdom  is  push'd  out  of  life. 
Procrastination  is  the  thief  of  time ; 
Year  after  year  it  steals,  till  all  are  fled, 
And  to  the  mercies  of  a  moment  leaves  395 

made  to  the  three  sister  goddesses  of  Roman  and  Grecian  mythology  that 
are  represented  as  spinning  the  destinies  of  men.  They  were  collectively 
called  the  Fates,  Parcce  by  the  Latins;  Moirce  (i.  e.  "the  Dispensers"')  by  the 
Greeks.  Their  individual  names  in  Hesiod  are  Clotho  (spinster) ,  Lachesis 
(allotter\  and  Jltropos  (unchangeable)  The  first  of  these  attached  the 
thread ;  the  second  spun  it ;  and  the  third  cut  or  broke  the  thread  at  the  ap- 
pointed hour  of  death.  To  outspin  the  Fatal  Sisters,  is,  therefore,  to  protract 
our  lives  beyond  the  divinely-appointed  termination. 

382.  Big  with  life  s  futurities :  Confidently  expecting  to  realize  in  the 
present  life  many  future  events. 

386.  Admonish'd  home:  Admonished  respecting  the  grave,  to  which,  as  to 
a  common  home,  all  are  directing  their  steps.     See  Night  II.  (360-1). 

388.  Slow  sudden  death  :  This  expression  at  first  view  seems  to  involve  a 
flat  contradiction;  but  we  may  interpret  it  to  mean  a  death  resulting  from  a 
protracted  disease,  yet  sudden  and  unexpected  in  its  consummation.  Such, 
often,  is  death  resulting  from  the  disease  called  consumption- 

393.  Procrastination :  The  act  or  habit  of  putting  off  to  to-morrow  what 
should  be  done  to-day.  With  the  procrastinator,  "  to-morrow  is  still  the 
fatal  time  when  all  is  to  be  done,  or  to  be  rectified  :  to-morrow  comes,  it 
goes,  and  still  I  please  myself  with  the  shadow,  whilst  I  lose  the  reality; 
unmindful  that  the  present  time  alone  is  ours;  the  future  is  yet  unborn,  and 
the  past  is  dead ;  and  can  only  live— as  parents  in  their  children, — in  the 
actions  it  has  produced.  The  time  we  live  ought  not  to  be  computed  by  the 
number  of  years,  but  by  the  use  that  has  been  made  of  them.  It  is  not  the 
extent  of  ground,  but  the  yearly  rent,  that  gives  value  to  the  estate." — Dr. 
Dodd 


06  THE    COMPLAINT. 

The  vast  concerns  of  an  eternal  scene. 

If  not  so  frequent,  would  not  this  be  strange  ? 

That  'tis  so  frequent,  this  is  stranger  still. 

DELUSIVE    PROMISES    OF    REFORMATION. 

Of  man's  miraculous  mistakes  this  bears 
The  palm,  "  That  all  men  are  about  to  live,"  *"■.• 

For  ever  on  the  brink  of  being  born. 
All  pay  themselves  the  compliment  to  think 
They  one  day  shall  not  drivel,  and  their  pride 
On  this  reversion  takes  up  ready  praise  ; 
At  least  their  own  ;  their  future  selves  applauds :  405 

How  excellent  that  life  they  ne'er  will  lead  ! 
Time  lodged  in  their  own  hands  is  Folly's  vails  ; 
That  lodged  in  Fate's,  to  wisdom  they  consign ; 
The  thing  they  can't  but  purpose  they  postpone  : 
'Tis  not  in  folly  not  to  scorn  a  fool ;  410 

And  scarce  in  human  wisdom  to  do  more. 
All  promise  is  poor  dilatory  man, 
And  that  through  ev'ry  stage  ;  when  young,  indeed, 
In  full  content  we  sometimes  nobly  rest, 

Unanxious  for  ourselves,  and  only  wish,  415 

As  duteous  sons,  our  fathers  were  more  wise. 

400.  Are  about  to  live:  Are  just  about  to  begin  to  live,  that  is,  as  they 
should.     In  Night  II.  149-150,  the  author  says: — 

"  Wo  waste,  not  use  our  time :  we  breathe,  not  live."' 
"  Time  wasted  is  existence,  used  is  life.'''' 

404.  Reversion :  Prospective  change. 

405.  Their  own :  Their  own  praise. 

407-8.  Folly's  vails,  &c. :  The  present  time  is  the  avails,  the  perquisite,  the 
gain  of  Folly;  it  is  all  devoted  to  Folly — to  unwise  pursuits.  Time  lodged 
in  Fate's  hands,  that  is,  Time  future  (which  is  in  the  hands,  or  at  the  sove- 
reign disposal,  of  Providence) ,  they  design  to  occupy  wisely. 

416.  As  duteous  sons,  &c. :  The  delicate  but  cutting  satire  of  this  passage 
deserves  particular  notice.  The  idea  is  obviously  this — when  young  men 
we  consider  ourselves  as  already  wise  enough — make  no  exertion,  and  enter- 
tain  no  wish  to  acquire  more  wisdom ;  but  nobly  extend  our  wishps  in  that 
line  to  our  less  discerning  fathers. 


NIGHT   I.  97 

At  thirty,  man  suspects  himself  a  fool ; 

Knows  it  at  forty,  and  reforms  his  plan  ; 

At  fifty  chides  his  infamous  delay, 

Pushes  his  prudent  purpose  to  resolve  ;  420 

In  all  the  magnanimity  of  thought 

Resolves,  and  re-resolves  ;  then  dies  the  same. 

ALL  MEN  ARE  THOUGHT  MORTAL  BUT  OURSELVES. 

And  why  ?  because  he  thinks  himself  immortal. 
All  men  ihink  all  men  mortal  but  themselves  : 
Themselves,  when  some  alarming  shock  of  fate  425 

Strikes  thro'  their  wounded  hearts  the  sudden  dread ; 
But  their  hearts  wounded,  like  the  wounded  air, 
Soon  close  ;  where  passed  the  shaft  no  trace  is  found. 
As  from  the  wing  no  scar  the  sky  retains, 
The  parted  wave  no  furrow  from  the  keel,  430 

So  dies  in  human  hearts  the  thought  of  death. 
E'en  with  the  tender  tear,  which  nature  sheds 
O'er  those  we  love,  we  drop  it  in  their  grave. 
Can  I  forget  Philander  ?  that  were  strange  ! 
0  my  full  heart ! — But  should  I  give  it  vent,  435 

The  longest  ru<rht,  though  longer  far.  would  fail, 
And  the  lark  listen  to  my  midnight  song. 

THE    NIGHTINGALE    AND    THE    POETS. 

The  sprightly  lark's  shrill  matin  wakes  the  morn ; 

425.  Themselves  :  All  men  think  themselves  mortal,  when  some  alarm- 
ing, &c. 

433.  We  drop  it :  That  is,  the  thought  of  death.  What  can  be  more  ex- 
quisitely beautiful  in  poetry,  or  more  justly  descriptive  of  the  sad  inconsist- 
ency of  human  nature,  than  the  passage  embraced  in  the  last  five  lines ! 

436-7.  Though  longer  far,  &c. :  That  is,  far  longer  than  it  is.  And  the 
lark  listen,  &c  :  My  midnight  song  would  be  protracted  till  the  dawn  of 
day 

43S.  The  sprightly  lark's  shrill  matin,  &c. :  Morning  song.  We  cannot 
foihear  our  admiration  of  the  charming  idea  here  introduced — imagining  only 


98  'IHE    COMPLAINT. 

Grief's  sharpest  thorn  bard  pressing  on  my  breast, 

I  strive,  with  wakeful  melody,  to  cheer  440 

of  course,  that  the  shrill  and  sprightly  matin  of  the  lark  waked  up  the  morn; 
thus  dispelling  the  shadows  of  the  night.  Who  ever  listened  (says  Mrs. 
Ellis)  to  this  voice  on  a  clear  spring  morning,  when  nature  was  first  rising 
from  her  wintry  bed,  when  the  furze  was  in  bloom,  and  the  lambs  at  play, 
and  the  primrose  and  the  violet  scented  the  delicious  south  wind  that  came 
with  the  glad  tidings  of  renovated  life — who  ever  listened  to  the  song  of  the 
lark  on  such  a  morning,  while  the  dew  was  upon  the  grass,  and  the  sun  was 
smiling  through  a  cloudless  sky,  without  feeling  that  the  spirit  of  joy  was 
still  alive  within,  around,  and  above  him,  and  that  those  wild  and  happy 
strains,  floating  in  softened  melody  upon  the  scented  air,  were  the  outpour- 
ings of  a  gratitude  too  rapturous  for  words? 

440.  With  wakeful  melody  :  The  poet's  grief  was  such  that  he  sought  to 
solace  himself  during  the  weary  hours  of  night  with  the  wakeful  melody  of 
the  verse  he  was  composing;  in  which  occupation  he  compares  himself 
with  Philomel,  or  the  Nightingale,  which  pours  out  her  charming  utterances 
to  the  nocturnal  stars.  The  sweet  songster  derives  this  name  from  the  my- 
thological story  of  the  transformation  of  Philomela,  the  daughter  of  an  Athe- 
nian king,  into  a  nightingale.  With  the  poets,  and  Milton  especially,  this 
bird  seems  to  have  been  a  particular  favourite.  How  beautifully  he  speaks 
of  it  in  Par.  Lost.  Book  IV.  598-603. 

"Now  came  still  ev'ning  on,  and  twilight  grey 
Had  in  her  sober  liv'iy  all  things  clad ; 
Silence  accompanied :  for  beast  and  bird, 
They  to  their  grassy  couch,  these  to  their  nests, 
Were  slunk,  all  but  the  wakeful  nightingale : 
She  all  nisht  long  her  am'rous  descant  sung: 
Silence  was  pleased." 

I  am  much  disposed  to  think  (shrewdly  remarks  Mrs.  Ellis,  in  her  "  Po- 
etry of  Life),  that  this  bird  owes  half  its  celebrity  to  the  circumstance  of 
its  singing  in  the  night,  when  the  visionary,  wrapped  in  the  mantle  of  deep 
thought,  wanders  forth  to  gaze  upon  the  stars,  and  to  court  the  refreshment 
of  silence  and  solitude.  It  is  then  that  the  voice  of  the  nightingale  thrills 
upon  his  ear,  and  he  feels  that  a  kindred  spirit  is  awake,  perhaps,  like  him, 
to  sweet  remembrances,  to  sorrows  too  deep  for  tears,  and  joys  for  which 
music  alone  can  find  a  voice.  He  listens,  and  the  ever-varying  melody  rises 
and  falls  upon  the  wandering  wind  ;  he  pines  for  some  spiritual  communion 
with  this  unseen  being;  he  longs  to  ask  why  sleep  is  banished  from  a  breast 
so  tuned  to  harmony:  joy,  and  joy  alone,  it  cannot  be,  which  inspires  that 
solitary  lay:  no,  there  are  tones  of  tenderness  too  much  like  grief,  and  is  not 
grief  the  bond  of  fellowship  by  which  impassioned  souls  are  held  together* 
Thus,  the  nightingale  pours  upon  the  heart  of  the  poet  strains  which  thrill 


XIGHT    I.  99 

The  sullen  gloom,  sweet  Philomel !  like  thee, 
And  call  the  stars  to  listen ;  ev'ry  stal- 
ls deaf  to  mine,  enamour'd  of  thy  lay, 
Yet  be  not  vain ;  there  are  "who  thine  excel, 
And  charm  through  distant  ages.     Wrapt  in  shade,  445 

Pris'ner  of  darkness  !  to  the  silent  horn's 
How  often  I  repeat  their  rage  divine, 
To  lull  my  griefs,  aud  steal  my  heart  from  woe  ! 
I  roll  their  raptures,  but  not  catch  their  fire. 
Dark,  though  not  blind,  like  thee,  Mreonides  !  450 

Or,  Milton,  thee !  ah,  could  I  reach  your  strain ! 

with  those  sensations  that  have  given  pathos  to  his  muse,  and  he  pays  her 
back  by  celebrating  her  midnight  minstrelsy  in  song. 

444.  There  are  who  thine  excel :  Having  complimented  the  sweet  Bird  of 
Night  upon  her  gaining  a  favourable  audience  of  the  stars  while  his  own  Uiy 
was  neglected  by  them,  the  author  passes  to  other  songsters  that  in  his  judg- 
ment far  excel  the  nightingale,  as  they  charm  through  distant  ages.  He  was 
accustomed,  he  says,  while  a  prisoner  of  darkness,  that  is,  during  the  period 
of  darkness,  to  repeat  to  the  silent  hours  (a  highly  poetic  thought),  their 
rage  divine  (the  products  of  their  inspired,  energetic,  vehement  genius).  He 
refers,  in  the  first  place,  to  blind  Maonides,  or  Homer  the  immortal  poet  of 
Greece,  and  author  of  the  Iliad  and  the  Odyssey  :  he  next  refers  to  another 
blind  poet,  the  equally  immortal  bard  of  Britain,  and  pours  out  a  fervent 
wish  that  he  himself  might  be  endued  with  a  capacity  to  reach  their  ele- 
vated strain.  And,  in  the  third  place,  introduces,  in  the  same  honourable 
connexion,  the  more  recent  British  bard,  ivho  made  Mceonidcs  our  own.  by  an 
admirable  translation  of  the  Iliad  and  the  Odyssey  into  the  English  lan- 
guage. "Man  too  Ac  sung.''  in  his  elaborate  "Essay  on  Man.;:  It  was, 
however,  of  man  in  the  present  life  exclusively.  Our  author  chiefly  occu- 
pies himself  with  man  as  an  immortal  being,  and  expresses  in  the  conclud- 
ing lines  an  eloquent  regret  that  the  able  translator  of  Homer  had  not,  by 
extending  his  "  Essay  on  I\Ian."  saved  him  the  labor,  perhaps  the  disgrace, 
of  composing  the  poem  that  follows — 

"  O  had  be,  mounted  on  his  wing  of  fire, 
Soar'd  where  I  sink,  and  snng  immortal  man, 
How  had  it  hless'd  mankind,  and  rescued  me !" 

451.  Or,  3Iilton.  thee:  (Like)  thee.  Some  of  the  most  touching  lines  in 
the  Paradise  Lost  are  those  in  which  the  bard  alludes  to  the  calamity  of 
his  blindness.  There  is  one  in  which  he  compares  himself  (as  in  this  pas- 
sage he  is  compared)  with  the  Grecian  bard.  He  also  compares  himself 
with  the  nijjhtingaip.     Ti:P  passage  will  thus  happily  illustrate  this  portion 


100  THE    COMPLAINT. 

Or  his  who  made  Mseonides  our  own. 

Man,  too,  he  sung  ;  immortal  man  I  sing. 

Oft  bursts  my  song  beyond  the  bounds  of  life  ; 

What  now  but  immortality  can  please?  455 

O  had  he  press'd  his  theme,  pursued  the  track 

Which  opens  out  of  darkness  into  day  ! 

0  had  he,  mounted  on  his  wing  of  fire, 

Soar'd  Avhere  I  sink,  and  sung  immortal  man, 

How  had  it  blest  mankind,  and  rescued  me  !  460 

of  the  Night  Thoughts,  while  it  must  gratify  every  lover  of  charming 
poetry.  It  is  taken  from  Book  III.  32 — 50.  (See  notes  on  the  passage  in 
Boyd's  Milton.) 

"  Nightly  I  visit :  nor  sometimes  forget 
Those  other  two  eqnall'd  with  me  in  fats, 
So  were  I equalVd  with  them  in  renown, 
Blind  Thamyris  and  blind  Mceonides, 
-\iiil  Tiresias  and  Phineus  prophets  old : 
Then  feed  on  thoughts,  that  voluntary  move 
Harmonious  numhers ;  as  the  wakeful  bird 
Sings  darkling,  arid  in  shadiest  covert  hid 
Tunes  her  nocturnal  note.    Thus  with  the  year 
Seasons  return,  but  not  to  ms  returns 
Day,  or  Vie  sweet  approach  of  ev'n  or  morn, 
Or  sight  of  vernal  bloom.,  or  stammer's  rose, 
Or  flocks,  or  herds,  or  human  face  divine; 
But  cloud  instead  and  ever-d  nring  dark 
Surrounds  me,  from  the  cheerful  ways  of  men 
Cut  of,  and  for  the  Hook  of  knowledge  fair 
Presented  with  a  universal  blank 
Of  Nature's  works  to  me  espunrfd  and  ras'd. 
And  Wisdom  at  one  entrance  quite  shut  <>///." 

It  is  a  little  strange  (says  Melmoih)  that  Pope,  who  knew  so  well  how 
to  say  a  civil  or  a  severe  thing,  did  not  take  notice  of  the  many  obliging 
expressions  bestowed  on  him  by  our  author ;  for  Pope  is  mentioned  in 
several  parts  of  the  Doctor's  writings  with  singular  honor.  But  my 
memory  fails  me  if  Mr.  Pope  was  anywhere  so  courteous  as  to  return  the 
compliment.  Indeed,  Dr.  Young  was  not,  in  his  life-time,  so  popular  as 
might  be  expected  from  his  genius  ;  and  writers  of  scarce  a  third  of  his 
real  ability,  by  being  less  grave,  were  three  times  more  in  vogue. 


©£> 


NIGHT   II. 


ON  TIME,  DEATH,  AND  FRIENDSHIP. 


$n  tjj?  Eigljt  IMimntlile  iljB  €u\  nf  Wilmington. 


"When  the  cock  crew  he  wept, — smote  by  that  eye 
"Which  looks  on  me,  on  all ;  that  Pow'r  who  bids 
This  midnight  sentinel,  with  clarion  shrill, 
(Emblem  of  that  which  shall  awake  the  dead) 

1.  He  ivept :  The  scene  referred  to  is  thus  touchingly  related  by  the  Evan- 
gelist Luke,  xxii.  60 — 62,  "and  immediately,  while  he  yet  spake,  the  cock 
crew.  And  the  Lord  turned  and  looked  on  Peter.  And  Peter  remembered 
the  word  of  the  Lord,  how  he  had  said  unlo  him.  Before  the  cock  crow, 
thou  shalt  deny  me  thrice.     And  Peter  went  out,  and  wept  bittcrlyP 

This  affecting  scene  was  probably  suggested  to  the  poet,  on  hearing  the 
shrill  notes  of  the  cock,  during  his  night  studies  and  meditations.  He  makes 
an  ingenious  and  important  use  of  an  event  commonly  regarded  as  most  in- 
significant, by  suggesting  that  the  cock  crows,  at  the  bidding  of  Christ,  to 
rouse  souls  from  slumber  that  they  may  cherish  thoughts  of  heaven.  He  is  led 
to  this  idea  by  considering  the  clarion  of  the  cock  as  an  emblem  of  that  all- 
awakening  trump  that  shall  sublimely  usher  in  the  resurrection  morn,  when 
all  the  armies  of  the  dead  shall  rise  from  their  multitudinous  graves  to  enter 
upon  a  new  state  of  being. 


102  THE    COMPLAINT. 

Rouse  souls  from  slumber  into  thoughts  of  Heav'n.  5 

Shall  I  too  weep  ?  where  then  is  fortitude  ? 

And,  fortitude  abandon'd,  where  is  man  ? 

I  know  the  terms  on  which  he  sees  the  light : 

He  that  is  born  is  listed  :  life  is  war  ; 

Eternal  war  with  woe  :  who  bears  it  best  1 1 

Deserves  it  least. — On  other  themes  I'll  dwell. 

Lorenzo !  let  me  turn  my  thoughts  on  thee, 

And  thine  on  themes  may  profit  ;  profit  there 

Where  most  thy  need :  themes,  too,  the  genuine  growth 

Of  dear  Philander's  dust.     He  thus,  though  dead,  15 

May  still  befriend — What  themes  ?  Time's  wondrous  price, 

Death,  friendship,  and  Philander's  final  scene  S 


AVARICE    OF   TIME. 

So  could  I  touch  these  themes  as  might  obtain 
Thine  ear,  nor  leave  thy  heart  quite  disengaged, 
The  good  deed  would  delight  me  ;  half  impress  20 

On  my  dark  cloud  an  Iris,  and  from  grief 
Call  glory. — Dost  thou  mourn  Philander's  fate  ? 
I  know  thou  say'st  it :  says  thy  life  the  same  ? 
He  mourns  the  dead,  who  live  as  they  desire. 
Where  is  that  thrift,  that  avarice  of  time,  25 

(0  glorious  avarice  !)  thought  of  death  inspires, 
As  rumour'd  robberies  endear  our  gold  ? 

12-13.  Themes  may  profit:  Themes  (which)  may  profit.  Where  most 
thy  need  (i  s)  • 

16.  Price :  Value. 

19.   Thine  ear :  The  attention  of  thine  ear.     Disengaged:  uninfluenced. 

21.  Jin  Iris:  A  rainbow,  which,  among  the  Greeks,  was  under  this  name 
personified  and  imagined  as  a  goddess.  The  rainbow  was  also  considered  to 
be  the  path  by  which  the  goddess  descended  from  Olympus  (the  residence 
of  the  gods)  and  returned  thither,  in  executing  the  commands  of  Juno,  her 
imperial  mistress. 

23.  That  thrift :  That  economical  management. 


NIGHT   II.  10JJ 

0  Time  !  than  gold  more  sacred ;  more  a  load 

Than  lead  to  fools,  and  fools  reputed  wise. 

What  moment  granted  man  without  account?  80 

What  years  are  squander' d,  wisdom's  debt  unpaid  ! 

Our  wealth  in  days  all  due  to  that  discharge. 

Haste,  haste,  he  lies  in  wait,  he's  at  the  door. 

Insidious  Death !  should  his  strong  hand  arrest, 

No  composition  sets  the  pris'ner  free.  3  j 

Eternity's  inexorable  chain 

Fast  binds,  and  vengeance  claims  the  full  arrear. 

How  late  I  shudder'd  on  the  brink  !  how  late 
Life  call'd  for  her  last  refuge  in  despair ! 

That  time  is  mine,  0  Mead  !  to  thee  I  owe  ;  40 

Fain  would  I  pay  thee  with  eternity ; 
But  ill  my  genius  answers  my  desire  : 
My  sickly  song  is  mortal,  past  thy  cure. 
Accept  the  will ; — that  dies  not  with  my  strain. 

For  what  calls  thy  disease,  Lorenzo  ?  Not  4  5 

For  Esculapian,  but  for  moral  aid. 

28-9.  More  a  load  than  lead :  A  heavier  burden,  and  no  more  valued,  than 
a  load  of  lead,  whilst  it  is  really  more  precious  than  so  much  gold. 

30.  Granted:    (is)  granted. 

32.  Our  wealth  in  days,  etc. :  We  give  to  our  days  their  proper  valu* 
when  we  act  as  wisdom  demands;  when  we,  in  the  language  of  the  poet, 
discharge  the  debt  of  wisdom. 

35.   Composition :  Bargaining,  or  mutual  arrangement. 

40.  O  Mead:  The  name  of  the  author's  physician,  to  whose  medical  skill 
he  attributes  his  recent  recovery  from  alarming  illness.  That  time  is  mine, 
that  it  is  my  property  ;  that  I  have  yet  an  interest  in  it,  to  thee  I  owe. 

What  an  admirable  and  unexpected  turn  does  the  ingenious  author  now 
give  to  the  train  of  thought!  Fuin  (gladly)  would  I  pay  thee  with  eternity. 
That  is,  with  endless  fame  upon  the  page  of  an  imperishable  poem.  This 
is  plain  from  the  three  following  lines. 

46.  Esculapian  :  Medical — a  term  borrowed  from  the  name  of  the  fabled 
god  of  medicine,  Esculapius,  or  iEsculapius.  In  proportion  (says  Prof. 
Fiske)  as  men  in  the  early  ages  were  ignorant  of  the  efficacy  and  use  of  re- 
medies for  disease,  there  was  the  greater  admiration  of  those  who  were  dis- 
tinguished in  the  art  of  healing,  and  the  greater  readiness  to  deify  them. 
Hence  the  deification  of  JEscuIapius,  who  was  viewed  as   the  god  of  medi 


104  TILE    COMPLAINT. 

Thou  think'st  it  folly  to  be  wise  too  soon. 

Youth  is  not  rich  in  time  ;  it  may  he  poor  ; 

Part  with  it  as  with  money,  sparing ;  pay 

No  moment,  hut  in  purchase  of  its  worth  ;  50 

And  what  its  worth,  ask  death-beds  ;  they  can  tell. 

Part  with  it  as  with  life,  reluctant;  big 

With  holy  hope  of  nobler  time  to  come : 

Time  higher  aim'd,  still  nearer  the  great  mark 

Of  men  and  angels ;  virtue  more  divine.  55 

AMUSEMENT,    THE    UNIVERSAL    DEMAND. 

Is  this  our  duty,  wisdom,  glory,  gain  ? 
(These  Heav'n  benign  in  vital  union  binds) 
And  sport  we  like  the  natives  of  the  bough, 
When  vernal  suns  inspire  ?     Amusement  reigns 
Man's  great  demand  :  to  trifle  is  to  live :  60 

And  is  it  then  a  trifle,  too,  to  die  ? 

Thou  say'st  I  preach,  Lorenzo !     'Tis  confest. 
What  if,  for  once,  I  preach  thee  quite  awake  ? 
Who  wants  amusement  in  the  flame  of  battle  ? 

cine,  and  said  to  be  the  son  of  Apollo  and  the  nymph  Coronis  Hygeia,  the 
goddess  of  health,  was  called  his  daughter.  At  first  the  practice ,in  medicine 
was  limited  almost  wholly  to  the  curing  of  external  wounds.  The  great 
renown  which  iEsculapius,  and  his  descendants,  the  Asclepiades  obtained,  is 
a  proof  of  the  novelty  and  rarity  of  the  healing  art  in  those  times,  in  which 
in  fact  it  was  considered  as  a  miraculous  gift  from  the  gods.  The  Ascle- 
piades established  several  schools  in  medicine.  It  was  not  until  a  later 
period  that  the  Greeks  became  acquainted  with  anatomy.  Hippocrates  was 
the  first  who  investigated  the  science  systematically,  or  wrote  upon  the 
subject. 

50.   Of  its  worth:  Of  something  equally  valuable. 

54.  Time  higher  ahrid :  Hope  of  time  higher  aimed ;  aimed,  in  the  direc- 
tion of  its  pursuits,  still  nearer  tiie  great  mark  of  men  and  angels,  namely,  a 
more  divine  virtue  than  has  yet  been  attained  by  us  on  earth. 

57.  These,  &c. :  The  author's  remark  is  deserving  of  special  attention; — 
that  heaven,  in  great  kindness  to  man,  has  bound  in  indissoluble  union  oui 
glory  and  our  gain  to  duty  and  wisdom. 

59.  Inspire:  Impart  animation. 


NIGHT    II.  10f) 

Is  it  not  treason  to  the  soul  immortal,  65 

Her  foes  in  arms,  eternity  the  prize  ? 

"Will  toys  amuse  when  med'eines  cannot  cure  1 

When  spirits  ebb,  when  life's  enchanting  scenes 

Their  lustre  lose,  and  lessen  in  our  sight, 

As  lands  and  cities  with  then  glitt'ring  spires,  70 

To  the  poor  shatter'd  bark  by  sudden  storm 

Thrown  off  to  sea,  and  soon  to  perish  there, 

Will  toys  amuse  ?     No ;  thrones  will  then  be  toys, 

And  earth  and  skies  seem  dust  upon  the  scale. 

Lorenzo's  apology  for  a  life  of  amusement. 

Redeem  we  time  ? — Its  loss  we  dearly  buy.  75 

What  pleads  Lorenzo  for  his  high-priz'd  sports  I 
He  pleads  time's  nurn'rous  blanks ;  he  loudly  pleads 
The  straw-like  trifles  on  life's  common  stream. 
From  whom  those  blanks  and  trifles  but  from  thee  ? 
No  blank,  no  trifle,  Nature  made,  or  meant.  80 

Virtue,  or  purpos'd  virtue,  still  be  thine ; 
This  cancels  thy  complaint  at  once  ;  this  leaves 
In  act  no  trifle,  and  no  blank  in  time. 
This  greatens,  fills,  immortalizes  all ; 

This  the  blest  art  of  turning  all  to  gold :  85 

This  the  good  heart's  prerogative  to  raise 

75.  Redeem  we  time  ?  Do  we  make  a  proper  use  of  time  ?  Its  loss  we 
iearly  buy ;  that  thing  is  dearly  bought  which  has  cost  us  the  sacrifice  of 
the  proper  use  of  time;  which  has  caused  us  to  waste  or  pervert  the  gift  ol 
time. 

81.  Still  be  thine:  Still  be  thy  occupation.  How  wretched  is  it  (says  Di 
Dodd) ,  to  hear  people  complain,  that  the  day  hangs  heavy  upon  them  ;  tha* 
they  don't  know  what  to  do  with  themselves!  How  monstrous  are  suet 
expressions  among  creatures  who  can  apply  themselves  to  the  duties  of 
religion  and  meditation  ;  to  the  reading  of  useful  books  ;  who  may  exercisa 
themselves  in  the  noble  pursuits  of  knowledge  and  virtue,  and  every  hour 
of  their  lives  make  themselves  wiser  and  better  than  they  were  before  • 

85.  It  was  a  vain  endeavor  of  alchemy  to  change  all  metals  into  gold. 
5* 


108  THE    COMPLAINT. 

A  royal  tribute  from  the  poorest  hours ; 

Immense  revenue  !  ev'iy  moment  pays. 

If  nothing  more  than  purpose  is  thy  pow'r, 

Thy  purpose  firm  is  equal  to  the  deed  :  90 

"Who  does  the  best  his  circumstance  allows, 

Does  well,  acts  nobly  ;  angels  could  no  more. 

Our  outward  act,  indeed,  admits  restrai 

'Tis  not  in  things  o'er  thought  to  domineer ; 

Guard  well  thy  thought :  our  thoughts  are  heard  in  heav'n.  95 

THE    VAST    IMPORTANCE    OF    TIME. 

On  all  important  time,  through  every  age, 
Tho'  much,  and  warm,  the  wise  have  urged ;  the  man 
Is  yet  unborn  who  duly  weighs  an  hour. 
"  I've  lost  a  clay'' — the  prince  who  nobly  cried, 
Had  been  an  emperor  without  his  crown  ;  1 00 

Oi  Eome  !  say  rather  lord  of  human  race  ! 
He  spoke  as  if  deputed  by  mankind. 
So  should  all  speak  :  so  reason  speaks  in  all : 
From  the  soft  whispers  of  that  God  in  man, 

87    A  royal  tribute :  A  large  revenue. 

8S.  Ev'ry  moment  pays :  Every  moment  pays  an  immense  revenue.  The 
grammatical  construction  would  have  been  made  plainer  by  removing  the 
exclamation  point  to  the  end  of  the  line.  It  was  placed  after  revenue  for 
rhetorical  effect. 

95.  Thoughts  are  heard.  Sec.  :  This  line  enjoins  upon  us  a  most  weighty, 
but  a  sadly  neglected  duty  ; — guard  well  thy  thought,  which  means  the  same 
as  indulge  no  improper,  unmanly  thought.  This  precept  is  enforced  by  a  con- 
sideration the  most  striking,  and  expressed  in  a  highly  original  manner  ;  our 
thoughts  are  heard  in  heaven.  Our  thoughts  have  a  voice  which  is  heard  in 
heaven.     The  simple  idea  is.  Heaven,  or  God.  knows  our  thoughts. 

99.  The  prince,  he.  Reference  is  here  made  to  the  Roman  emperor  Ves- 
pasian, who  is  said  to  have  made  it,  during  his  whole  life,  a  practice  to  call 
himself  to  an  account  every  night  for  the  actions  of  the  previous  day;  and 
when,  upon  the  review  of  any  day.  he  could  discover  no  good  or  useful  ac- 
tion done  by  him.  he  entered  upon  his  diary  this  record,  diem  perdidi — "  I  have 
lost  a  day." 

104.   That  God  m  'man  :  Reason. 


xight  n. 


107 


Why  fly  to  folly,  why  to  frenzy  fly,  105 

For  rescue  from  the  blessings  we  possess  ? 

Time,  the  supreme  ! — Time  is  eternity ; 

Pregnant  with  all  eternity  can  give  ; 

Pregnant  with  all  that  makes  archangels  smile. 

Who  murders  Time,  he  crushes  in  the  birth  1 1  'J 

A  pow'r  ethereal,  only  not  adored. 

PRODIGAL    WASTE    OF    TIME. 

Ah  !  how  unjust  to  Nature  and  himself 
Is  thoughtless,  thankless,  inconsistent  man  ! 
Like  children  babbling  nonsense  in  their  spoils, 
We  censure  Nature  for  a  span  too  short ;  115 

That  span  too  short  we  tax  as  tedious  too  ; 
Torture  invention,  all  expedients  tire, 
To  lash  the  Iing'ring  moments  into  speed, 
And  whirl  us  (happy  riddance !)  from  ourselves. 
Art,  brainless  art!  our  furious  charioteer,  120 

(For  Nature's  voice  unstifled  would  recal) 
Drives  headlong  towards  the  precipice  of  death, 
Death  most  our  dread ;  death  thus  more  dreadful  made  ; 
0  what  a  riddle  of  absurdity  ! 
Leisure  is  pain  ;  takes  off  our  chariot-wheels  ;  125 

107.   The  supreme  (blessing). 

115.  We  censure  Nature,  &c. :  This  sentiment  reminds  us  of  those  excel- 
lent observations  which  Seneca,  the  Roman  philosopher,  has  made  on  the 
same  topic.  He  says — we  all  of  us  complain  of  the  shortness  of  time,  and 
yet  have  much  more  than  we  know  what  to  do  with.  Our  lives  are  either 
spent  in  doing  nothing  at  all,  or  in  doing  nothing  to  the  purpose,  or  in  doing 
nothing  that  we  ought  to  do.  We  are  always  complaining  that  our  days  ar 
few,  and  acting  as  though  there  would  be  no  end  to  them. 

120.  Brainless  art :  Referring  to  the  art  or  invention  (117)  we  practise  to 
make  time  pass  rapidly  and  in  a  way  that  shall  prevent  reflection  upon 
grave  and  religious  subjects.  The  author  justly  characterizes  the  art  as 
brainless,  or  irrational — one  unworthy  of  an  intelligent  and  immortal  being. 

125.  Takes  off  our  chariot-wheels :  An  expression  borrowed  from  the  writ- 
ings of  Moses — Exod.  xiv.  24-5.  "  And  it  came  to  pass  that  in  the  morn- 
ing watch  the  Lord  looked  into  the  host  of  the  Egyptians  through  the  pillar 


108  THE    COMPLAINT. 

How  heavily  we  drag  the  load  of  life  ! 

Blest  leisure  is  our  curse  ;  like  that  of  Cain, 

It  makes  us  wander*  wander  earth  around, 

To  fly  that  tyrant  Thought.     As  Atlas  groan'd 

The  world  beneath,  we  groan  beneath  an  hour.  130 

We  cry  for  mercy  to  the  next  amusement ; 

The  next  amusement  mortgages  our  fields ; 

Slight  inconvenience  !  prisons  hardly  frown, 

From  hateful  time  if  prisons  set  us  free. 

Yet  when  death  kindly  tenders  us  relief,  135 

of  fire  and  of  the  cloud,  and  troubled  the  host  of  the  Egyptians,  and  took  off 
their  chariot  wheels  that  they  drove  them  heavily,  <§-<?." 

127.  Blest  leisure  is  our  curse:  The  antithesis  should  be  noticed.  Leisure, 
a  blessing,  an  opportunity  of  good,  in  itself,  through  human  folly  becomes  a 
curse,  a  torment,  and  an  injury. 

129-130.  As  Atlas  groan1  d,  &c. :  In  Roman  mythology,  Atlas  was  the  son 
of  the  giant  Iapetus.  Hesiod  represents  him  as  supporting  the  heaven  on 
his  head  and  hands.  Homer  calls  him  the  wise,  or  deep-thinking,  "who 
knows  all  the  depths  of  the  sea,  and  keeps  the  long  pillars  which  hold  heaven 
and  earth  asunder.''  Tn  the  progress  of  time  additions  were  made  to 
the  legend.  He  is  represented  as  a  king  in  the  north-western  borders  of 
Africa,  who,  having  refused  to  Perseus  the  offices  of  hospitality,  was  changed 
into  a  mountain,  by  his  looking  on  the  head  of  the  Gorgon  Medusa  which 
Perseus  displayed  for  that  purpose.  The  mountain  took  the  name  of  Atlas. 
Another  legend  is,  that  Atlas  resided  in  Lybia,  was  devoted  to  astrono- 
my, and  that,  having  ascended  a  high  mountain  for  the  purpose  of  making 
astronomical  observations,  he  fell  from  it  into  the  sea,  in  memory  of  which 
event  the  mountain  and  the  sea  were  named  after  him.  The  story  of  his 
supporting  the  heavens  may  have  been  suggested  either  by  the  height  of 
the  mountain,  or  by  the  habits  of  Atlas  as  an  astronomer,  by  supposing  him 
to  have  been  the  inventor  of  the  artificial  sphere.  Artists  accordingly  re- 
present him  as  bearing  our  immense  sphere  upon  his  shoulders. 

131.  For  mercy  to  the  next  amusement :  As  aiding  us  to  rid  ourselves  of 
time,  of  hateful' time  (134).  To  get  rid  of  it,  we  procure  amusements  even 
at  the  expense  of  fields  that  we  are  obliged  to  mortgage,  and  would  even  en- 
dure imprisonment  if  that  would  relieve  us  of  the  hateful  commodity  yet  on 
hand.  Yet,  strange  inconsistency  !  when  Death  proposes  to  take  it  all  at  a 
stroke,  we  marvellously  change  our  opinion  of  its  value,  as  the  author  finely 
illustrates  human  feeling  respecting  this  matter  in  the  remainder  of  thia 
paragraph. 


NIGHT   II.  109 

"We  call  him  cruel ;  years  to  moments  shrink, 

Ages  to  years.     The  telescope  is  turn'd. 

To  man's  false  optics  (from  his  folly  false) 

Time,  in  advance,  behind  him  hides  his  -wings, 

And  seems  to  creep  decrepit  with  his  age ;  140 

Behold  him  when  past  by ;  what  then  is  seen 

But  his  broad  pinions  swifter  than  the  winds  ? 

And  all  mankind,  in  contradiction  strong, 

Eueful,  aghast !  cry  out  on  his  career. 

CAUSE    AND    CURE    OF    THE    COMPLAINTS    AGAINST    TIME. 

Leave  to  thy  foes  these  errors  and  these  ills ;  145 

To  Nature  just,  their  cause  and  cure  explore. 
Not  short  Heav'n's  bounty ;  boundless  our  expense ; 
No  niggard  Nature ;  men  are  prodigals. 
We  waste,  not  use,  our  time  ;  we  breathe,  not  live. 
Time  wasted  is  existence,  used  is  life  ;  150 

And  bare  existence,  man,  to  live  ordain'd, 
Wrings  and  oppresses  with  enormous  weight. 
And  why  I  since  time  was  given  for  use,  not  waste, 
Enjoin'd  to  fly ;  with  tempest,  tide,  and  stars, 
To  keep  his  speed,  nor  ever  wait  for  man  ;  155 

Time's  use  was  doom'd  a  pleasure,  waste  a  pain  ; 
That  man  might  feel  his  error  if  unseen, 

139.   Time,  in  advance,  &c. :  A  most  beautiful  and  original  illustration. 

146.  Cause  and  cure:  The  former  is  our  prodigal  waste  of  time:  the  lat- 
ter is  our  proper  use  of  it,  as  explained  in  the  following  lines. 

151.  Man:  object  of  the  verbs,  wrings  and  oppresses.  Ordained  is  a  parti- 
ciple agreeing  with  man. 

153.  For  use,  not  u-astc :  There  are  five  things,  says  Dr.  Dodd,  in  which  a 
terrible  waste  of  time  is  too  commonly  made;  in  sleep,  in  meals,  in  dress 
(each  absrlutely  necessary,  yet  each,  alas  !  how  much  abused  by  us) ,  in  idle 
and  impertinent  visits,  and  useless  conversation  when  in  company,  and  in 
vain  and  romantic  thinking  when  alone. 

157.  Feel  his  error  if  unseen  :  Might  from  his  painful  sensations,  if  not 
from  his  intellectual  perceptions,  discover  when  he  was  misapplying  his 
time.     Boomed,  in  the  line  above,  means  appointed  to  be. 


110  THE    COMPLAINT. 

And  feeling,  fly  to  labour  for  his  cure ; 

Not  blund'ring,  split  on  idleness  for  ease. 

Life's  cares  are  comforts  ;  such  by  Heav'n  design'd;  1G0 

He  that  hath  none  must  make  them,  or  be  wretched. 

Cares  are  employments ;  and  without  employ 

The  soul  is  on  a  rack ;  the  rack  of  rest, 

To  souls  most  adverse ;  action  all  their  joy. 

Here,  then,  the  riddle  mark'd  above  unfolds  ;  1G5 

158.  Fly  to  labour  for  his  cure :  An  ancient  philosopher  well  remarked  ; — 
''love  labour :  if  you  do  not  want  it  for  food,  you  may  for  physic." 

159.  Split  on  idleness :  Allusion  is  made  to  a  vessel  dashing  upon  a  rock 
and  going  to  pieces.  The  figure  is  a  strong  one,  and  suited  to  impress  us 
with  the  dangerous  mistake  those  make  who  imagine  that  want  of  employ- 
ment will  be  a  source  of  ease.  It  will  give  as  much  ease  to  the  mind,  as 
the  fatal  rock  gives  to  the  vessel  that  is  split  upon  it. 

160.  Cares  are  comforts:  Our  author  abounds  in  pleasant  and  unexpected 
contrasts,  as  in  this  instance  :  so  further  on,  the  rock  of  rest.  Dionysius,  the 
Elder,  on  one  occasion  was  asked  if  he  was  at  leisure  and  had  no  business  to 
attend  to.  "  The  gods  forbid,"  exclaimed  he,  "  that  ever  it  should  be  so 
with  me ;  for  a  bow,  they  say,  will  break  if  it  be  over-bent ;  but  the  mind 
if  it  be  over-slack." 

161.  Must  make  them,  &c. :  No  man,  says  Dr.  Dodd,  can  be  happy  in  total 
idleness  :  he  that  should  be  condemned  to  lie  torpid  and  motionless  "  would 
fly  for  recreation  to  the  mines  and  the  gallies."  And  it  is  well  when  nature 
or  fortune  find  employment  for  those  who  would  not  have  known  how  to 
procure  it  for  themselves.  Sir  William  Temple  relates  the  story  of  an  old 
man  near  the  Hague,  "  who,"  says  he,  "  served  my  house  from  his  dairy,  and 
grew  so  rich  that  he  gave  it  over,  bought  a  house  and  furnished  it  at  the 
Hague,  resolving  to  live  at  ease  the  rest  of  his  life;  but  at  length  grew  so 
weary  of  being  idle,  that  he  sold  it,  and  returned  to  his  dairy."  That  old 
man  has  had  many  imitators. 

163.  The  rack  of  rest :  The  rack  is  an  instrument  of  torture,  to  which  rest 
Is  here  compared,  because  a  total  want  of  employment  brings  uneasiness  and 
torment. 

The  ancient  Romans  (as  a  learned  writer  observes)  were  such  haters  of 
idleness  that,  whereas,  in  their  theology,  dgcnotia,  who  was  to  stir  up  to 
action  ;  Stimula,  who  was  to  impel  men  to  diligence;  and  Strenua,  who  was 
to  give  them  constancy  and  firmness,  were  all  three  received  as  deities,  and 
were  worshipped  in  temples  within  the  city ;  they  would  not  receive  Quiet, 
or  Rest,  as  a  goddess  in  public,  but  built  a  temple  for  her  in  one  of  their 
highways,  without  the  city  walls. 


XIGHT   II.  Ill 

Then  time  turns  torment,  when  man  turns  a  fool. 

We  rave,  we  wrestle  with  great  Nature's  plan ; 

"We  thwart  the  Deity,  and  'tis  decreed, 

Who  thwart  his  will  shall  contradict  their  own. 

Hence  our  unnat'ral  quarrel  with  ourselves;  170 

Our  thoughts  at  enmity  ;  our  bosom-hroil ; 

We  push  Time  from  us,  and  we  wish  him  hack  ; 

Lavish  of  lustrum*,  and  yet  fond  of  life  ; 

Life  we  think  long  and  short ;  death  seek  and  shun  ; 

Body  and  soul,  like  peevish  man  and  wife,  175 

United  jar,  and  yet  are  loth  to  part. 

O  the  dark  days  of  vanity  !  while  here 
How  tasteless  !  and  how  terrible  when  gone ! 
Gone  !  they  ne'er  go  ;  when  past,  they  haunt  us  still ; 
The  spirit  walks  of  ev'ry  day  deceased,  180 

And  smiles  an  angel,  or  a  fury  frowns. 
Nor  death  nor  life  delight  us.     If  time  past 
And  time  possest  both  pain  us,  what  can  please  ? 
That  which  the  Deity  to  please  ordain'd, 
Time  used.     The  man  who  consecrates  his  hours  185 

By  vig'rous  effort  and  an  honest  aim, 
At  once  he  draws  the  sting  of  life  and  death  ; 
He  walks  with  Nature,  and  her  paths  are  peace. 

166.  Time  turns  torment :  Becomes  a  source  of  torment.  For  an  excellent 
illustration  of  this  idea  we  may  turn  to  Thomson's  Castle  of  Indolence. 

"  Their  only  labour  is  to  kill  the  time ; 
And  labour  dire  it  is,  and  weary  woe. 
They  sit,  they  loll,  turn  o'er  some  idle  rhyme, 
Or  saunter  forth,  with  tottering  steps  and  slow : 
This  soon  too  rude  an  exercise  they  find  ; 
Straight  on  the  couch  their  limbs  again  they  throw, 
Where  hours  on  hours  they  sighing  lie  reclined, 
And  court  the  vapory  god  soft-breathing  in  the  wind." 

171.    Our  bosom-broil :  Contending  passions. 

173.  Lustrums :  The  Roman  lustrum  was  a  period  of  five  years  :  at  the 
end  of  which  period  the  feast  called  Lustralia  was  observed,  during  which 
the  censor  purified  the  people  by  various  sacrifices  and  ceremonies. 

180.  Tiie  spirit  walks,  he. :  The  spirit  (or  ghost)  of  every  deceased  clay 
walks  (behind  us)  and  smiles,  &c. 


112  THE    COMPLAINT. 


TIME ITS    NATURE,    ORIGIN,    AND    SPEED. 

Our  error's  cause  and  cure  are  seen  !  see  next 
Time's  nature,  origin,  importance,  speed  ;  190 

And  thy  great  gain  from  urging  his  career. — 
All-sensual  man,  because  untouch'd,  unseen, 
He  looks  on  time  as  nothing.     Nothing  else 
Is  truly  man's  ;  'tis  Fortune's — Time's  a  god. 
Hast  thou  ne'er  heard  of  Time's  omnipotence  ?  195 

For,  or  against,  what  wonders  can  he  do  ! 
And  will :  to  stand  blank  neuter  he  disdains. 
Not  on  those  terms  was  Time  (Heav'n's  stranger)  sent 
On  his  important  embassy  to  man. 

Lorenzo  !  no  :  on  the  long  destined  hour,  200 

From  everlasting  ages  growing  ripe, 
That  memorable  hour  of  wondrous  birth, 
When  the  Dread  Sire,  on  emanation  bent, 
And  big  with  Nature,  rising  in  his  might, 
Call'd  forth  creation  (for  then  Time  was  born)  205 

By  Godhead  streaming  through  a  thousand  worlds ; 
Not  on  those  terms,  from  the  great  days  of  heav'n, 
From  old  Eternity's  mysterious  orb 
Was  Time  cut  off,  and  cast  beneath  the  skies ; 
The  skies,  which  watch  him  in  his  new  abode,  210 

190-  Time's  nature:  See  (194).  It  is  a  god— an  omnipotent  wonder- 
worker (196). 

192.  Because  untouch'd,  &c. :  Because  time  cannot  be  handled  or  seen. 
All-sensual,  (entirely  sensual)  man  looks  upon  it  as  nothing. 

194  'Tis  Fortune's:  Everything,  but  time,  belongs  to  Fortune,  or  is  be- 
yond our  control. 

198.  Heaven's  stranger:  A  stranger  sent  to  us  from  heaven. 

203-4.  On  emanation  bent :  Purposing  an  emanation  from  himself;  intent 
on  originating  some  effect.  And  big  with  Nature,  about  to  give  birth  to  the 
various  objects  of  nature. 

205.  Time  was  born  :  The  date  of  the  creation  of  the  universe  is  described 
as  the  origin  of  time.  Its  origin  is  farther  indicated  (209)  as  something  cut 
off  from  eternity,  mysterious  circle,  and  cast  beneath  the  skies. 


NIGHT    II.  113 

Measuring  his  motions,  by  revolving  spheres ; 

That  horologe  machinery  divine. 

Hours,  days,  and  months,  and  years,  his  children,  play, 

Like  num'rous  wings,  around  him,  as  he  flies  : 

Or  rather,  as  unequal  plumes,  they  shape  215 

His  ample  pinions,  swift  as  darted  flame, 

To  gain  his  goal,  to  reach  his  ancient  rest, 

And  join  anew  Eternity  his  sire ; 

In  his  immutability  to  rest, 

When  worlds,  that  count  his  circles  now,  unhinged,  220 

(Fate  the  loud  signal  sounding)  headlong  rush 

To  timeless  night  and  chaos,  whence  they  rose. 

212.  Horologe  machinery:  Time-measuring  (hour-tellingi  machinery,  by 
which  expression  our  author  indicates  the  moving  bodies  of  the  solar  and 
stellar  systems. 

213.  His  children,  play,  &c. :  Hours,  days,  and  months,  and  years,  are  here 
beautifully  represented  as  the  children  of  Time,  playing  like  numerous 
(birds  with  wings)  around  him,  as  he  flies  towards  his  own  sire,  Eternity 
(21S) .  It  is  a  pity  that  our  author  did  not  content  himself  with  this  represen- 
tation ;  but,  ever  fond  of  displaying  his  ingenuity,  he  spoils  the  effect  of  the 
passage  by  immediately  representing  the  houis,  &c.  not  as  smaller  birds 
sporting  around  the  parent  bird,  but  as  plumes  or  feathers  of  unequal  size, 
giving  shape  to  the  ample  pinions  (wings)  of  Time,  as  the  offspring  of 
Eternity,  and  hastening  to  join  his  sire.  This  rapid  change  of  figure  is  in 
exceedingly  bad  taste.  Either  of  the  above  representations,  alone,  is  appro- 
priate ;  but  if  one  is  correct  the  other  is  false,  and  of  course  they  should  not 
have  both  been  broughl  forward.  The  hours  <§r.,  could  not  be  little  birds 
fluttering  around  their  mightier  sire,  and  at  the  same  time  the  feathers  that 
composed  his  ample  pinions. 

220.  Unhinged :  It  is  difficult  to  perceive  the  propriety  of  this  epithet  in 
its  application  to  the  rolling  worlds  of  space.  They  are  not  moving  on 
bir.ges.  and  hence  when  it  shall  please  their  Creator  to  stop  their  move- 
ments and  reduce  them  again  to  chaos,  the  act  will  be  something  quite  dif- 
ferent from  that  which  this  epithet  expresses.  The  author  may  have  used  it 
on  the  authority  of  Milton,  who  applies  it  to  the  world,  but  without  reference 
to  its  motion  in  its  orbit. 

,;  His  constellations  set 
Ami  the  -well-balanced  world  on  hinges  hung." 

221.  Fate:  A  Pagan  term  in  a  Christian  sense;  Providence,  or  God  acting 
in  conformity  to  his  own  fixed  purpose. 


IT*  THE    COMPLAINT. 

Why  spur  the  speedy?  why  with  levities 
New-wing  thy  short,  short  day's  too  rapid  flight! 
Know'st  thou,  or  what  thou  dost,  or  what  is  done  ?  225 

Man  flies  from  time,  and  time  from  man  ;  too  soon 
In  sad  divorce  this  double  flight  must  end ; 
And  then  where  are  we  ?  where,  Lorenzo,  then 
Thy  sports,  thy  pomps  ?     I  grant  thee,  in  a  state 
Not  unambitious ;  in  the  ruffled  shroud,  230 

Thy  Parian  tomb's  triumphant  arch  beneath. 
Has  Death  his  fopperies  ?     Then  well  may  Life 
Put  on  her  plume,  and  in  her  rainbow  shine. 

THE    LORENZOS    OF    THE    AGE. 

Ye  well  array'd !  ye  lilies  of  our  land  ! 

223—1.  With  levities  new-wing,  &c. :  The  author  here  speaks  of  the  loo 
rapid  flight  of  man:s  short  day  being  hastened  by  the  frivolities  that  give  new 
wings  to  it.  The  period  of  a  person's  life  on  earth  is  here  represented  by  a 
bird  in  rapid  motion :  whereas,  a  few  lines  above,  the  whole  duration  of  the 
visible  universe  was  presented  under  the  same  figure. 

225.   Or :  The  first  of  these,  in  poetic  usage,  means  either. 

231.  Parian  tomb:  Tomb  constructed  of  the  Parian  marble — marble  from 
one  of  the  Grecian  islands  (Paros);  distinguished  for  its  durability,  beauty, 
and  expensiveness.  In  Dr.  Clarke's  Travels  (quoted  by  Anthon)  is  a 
long  and  particular  account  of  the  varieties  of  marble  found  in  different  parts 
of  Greece,  and  out  of  which  the  world-renowned  statuary  of  ancient 
Greece  was  formed.  The  qualities  (he  informs  us)  that  give  great  value  to 
the  Parian  over  the  Pentelican  are,  that  of  hardening  by  exposure  to  atmo- 
spheric air,  and  the  consequent  property  of  resisting  decomposition  through  a 
series  of  ages.  The  Pentelican  is  white,  and  hence  in  the  early  periods  of 
Grecian  art  was  preferred.  Of  this  the  famous  Parthenon  at  Athens  was 
built ;  but  the  finest  Grecian  sculpture  which  has  been  preserved  to  the  pre- 
sent time,  is  generally  of  Parian  marble.  The  statues  and  bas-reliefs  exe- 
cuted in  this  kind  of  marble  retain,  with  all  the  delicate  softness  of  wax,  the 
mild  lustre  even  of  their  original  polish,  while  those  which  were  constructed 
of  Pentelican  marble  have  been  decomposed,  and  sometimes  exhibit  a  sur- 
face as  earthy  and  as  rude  as  common  limestone.  The  true  Parian  marble 
has  generally  somewhat  of  a  faint  bluish  tinge  among  the  white,  and  often 
has  blue  veins  in  different  parts  of  it.  In  one  of  his  Odes.  Horace  thus  al- 
ludes to  it— Bk.  L  Od.  19. 

"  tJrit  mc  Glyceroe  nitor, 
Splendenlis  Park)  marmore purius." 


KIGHX    II.  115 

Ye  lilies  male  !  who  neither  toil  nor  spin,  235 

3  mifi  ise 

::on,  more  sumptuous  to  the  sight! 
Ye  who  nothing  can  sup] 

Yourselv  supportabl  .om 

winter  rose  must  bk  •  m  put  on 

beam  in 
:.ius  breathe  stall  .    r  be  chid; 

;ee,  and  song, 
And  robes,  and  notions,  framed  in  foreign  looms ! 

.-Lorenzo-  _:-!  who  deem  245 

J  o 

One  moment  unam  -  :-ry 

>'.::.  •"ho  call  aloud 

For  ev'ry  bauble  drivell'd  oer  by  sense, 
For  rattles  and  -  of  ev'ry  c 

For  change  of  follies  and  rel: ; 

Ye  lilies  male,  kc:  A  wiry  comparison,  suggested  by  what  w 

lilies  of  the  field,  by  the  great  Teacher,  that  they  neither  toil  tu 

(Mat.  6  :  2S) .     Our  author  is  characterizing  the  fops  or  dandies  of  his 

-    •     Who  nothing  can  support :  Who  can  carry  nothing.     The  turn  next 
given  to  the  thought  is  full  of  humour — yourselves  most  insupportable. 

241.  In  Leo  :  One  of  the  constellations  or  signs  of  the  Zodiac  in  which  the 
sun  appears  during  winter :  the  constellations  being  usually  represented  on 

-.'.  charts  under  the  figures  of  various  animals  to  which  the  re 
positions  of  the  promir.c  .  ich  they  contain  are  conceived  to  beai 

some  resemblance. 

..us:  The  west  wind  which  jrevailed  at  the  comr.  • 
spring.     It  also  had  the  name  of  Zcphyrus.  or  Zephyr.     Milton  thus  write: 
of  it  in  his  Allegro. 

"  The  frolic  -wind  that  breathes  the  spring, 
;  r  ^vi;h  Aurora  playing 
A;  Lc  met  her  once  a  Maring.  ic. " 

is;  Fanciful  things.     It  seems  that  the  phrase  Yankee  notions 
is  not  exactly  original  with  us:  but  was  used  by  our  author  a  cent 
and  more. 

DrivcITd  o'er  by  sense :  Over  which  the  senses  were  foolishly  and 
constantly  emplo] 

Relays  efj'cy:  Succession  of  joys,  in  allusion  to  horses  provided  at 
regular.  r  the  use  oi  .  _         f  Eastern  king-. 


116  THE    COMPLAINT. 

To  drag  jour  patient  through  the  tedious  length 

Of  a  short  winter's  day say,  sages,  say ! 

Wit's  oracles  ;  say,  dreamers  of  gay  dreams ; 

How  will  you  weather  an  eternal  night 

Where  such  expedients  fail  ?  2  c  •' 

THE  OPERATIONS  OF  CONSCIENCE. 

0  treach'rous  Conscience  !  while  she  seems  to  sleep) 
On  rose  and  myrtle,  lull'd  with  syren  song ; 
While  she  seems  nodding  o'er  her  charge,  to  drop 
On  headlong  appetite  the  slacken' d  rein, 

And  give  us  up  to  license,  unrecall'd,  2G0 

Unmark'd  ; — see,  from  behind  her  secret  stand, 
The  sly  informer  minutes  ev'ry  fault, 
And  her  dread  diary  with  horror  fills. 
Not  the  gross  act  alone  employs  her  pen  : 
She  reconnoitres  Fancy's  airy  band,  265 

A  watchful  foe  !  the  formidable  spy, 
List'ning,  o'erhears  the  whispers  of  our  camj), 
Our  dawning  purposes  of  heart  explores, 
And  steals  our  embryos  of  iniquity. 

As  all-rapacious  usurers  conceal  270 

Their  Doomsday-book  from  all-consuming  heirs ; 

256.  0  treachWous  Conscience.  &c. :  With  this  line  commences  an  admirable 
personification  of  this  distinguishing  and  authoritative  faculty  of  the  human 
soul ;  that  by  which  we  take  cognizance  of  actions  as  right  or  wrong — by 
which  also  we  approve  the  former  and  disapprove  of  the  latter;  and  by 
which  we  are,  further,  ordered  to  practise  the  right  and  abstain  from  the 
wrong.  By  the  operations  of  this  faculty  we  are  led,  moreover,  to  anticipate 
the  retributions  of  another  state  of  existence. 

She  is  called  treacherous,  by  our  author,  in  allusion  to  the  fact  that  she 
seems  now  to  be  asleep,  and  to  pay  no  regard  to  actions  for  each  of  which 
hereafter,  with  tremendous  severity,  she  will  call  us  to  a  full  account. 

257.  Syren  song:  Explained  Night  I.   (323). 

269.  Embryos  of  iniquity :  The  purposes  that  may  have  been  formed  to 
commit  any  acts  of  iniquity,  and  which  in  a  certain  time  would  grow  into 
outward  acts. 

271.  Doomsday-book  :  Book    of  accounts;  involving  the  idea  of  ruin  to 


NIGHT    II.  117 

Thus,  with  indulgence  most  severe,  she  treats 

Us  spendthrifts  of  inestimable  time  ; 

Unnoted,  notes  each  moment  misapplied  ; 

In  leaves  more  durable  than  leaves  of  brass  275 

Writes  our  whole  history,  which  Death  shall  read 

In  ev'ry  pale  delinquent's  private  ear, 

And  judgment  publish  ;  publish  to  more  worlds 

Than  this  ;  and  endless  age  in  groans  resound. 

Lorenzo,  such  that  sleeper  in  thy  breast !  280 

Such  is  her  slumber,  and  her  vengeance  such 

For  slighted  counsel  :  such  thy  future  peace  ! 

And  think'st  thou  still  thou  canst  be  wise  too  soon  ? 

time's  momextocs  value. 

But  why  on  time  so  lavish  is  my  song  ? 
On  this  great  theme  kind  Nature  keeps  a  school,  285 

To  teach  her  sons  herself.     Each  night  we  die, 
Each  morn  are  born  anew ;  each  day  a  life  ! 
And  shall  we  kill  each  day  ?     If  trifling  kills, 

tnose  against  whom  charges  are  therein  made.  The  name  may  have  been 
suggested  by  the  analogy  between  the  reckoning  connected  with  such  a  book, 
affecting  the  destiny  in  this  life,  and  that  more  solemn  and  decisive  reckon- 
ing which  is  connected  with  the  "  books"  the  Scriptures  speak  of  as  forth- 
coming in  the  day  of  final  doom — the  day  of  judgment,  when  the  accounts 
of  our  lifetime  on  earth  will  be  presented,  and  a  corresponding  sentence 
awarded. 

The  rapacity  of  the  usurer  induces  him  to  conceal  from  extravagant  heirs 
of  a  fortune  not  yet  in   their  .  The  swelling  account   which  his 

books  show  against  them,  lest  they  should  be  alarmed  at  its  amount,  and  be- 
come more  prudent  in  their  expenditure,  and  thus  diminish  the  gains  of  the 
usurer  from  money  loaned  them.     This  illustrates  finely  the  subject  in  hand. 

274.  Unnoted :  That  is,  by  us.  The  play  upon  the  word  note  is  worthy 
of  remark  ;  unnoted,  notes. 

280.   Such  that  sleeper:  Such  is,  &c. 

286.  Each  night  ice  die :  We  seem  to  die.  Death  is  often,  from  the  appa- 
rent resemblance,  called  sleep. 

288  If  trifling  kills.  &c.  :  The  thoughts  expressed  immediately  above  and 
the  language  in  which   they  are  conveyed,  for  their  terseness    originality, 


118  i)IE    COMPLAINT. 

Sure  vice  must  butcher.     O  what  heaps  of  slain 

Cry  out  for  vengeance  on  us  !     Time  destroy'd  290 

Is  suicide,  where  more  than  blood  is  spilt. 

Time  flies,  death  urges,  knells  call,  Ileav'n  invites, 

Hell  threatens  :  all  exerts  ;  in  effort  all ; 

and  impressiveness,  deserve  our  attentive  study  and  meditation.  As  an  il- 
lustration, in  part,  of  what  is  implied  in  trifling  with  time,  the  following 
pithy  observations  of  a  recent  English  writer  deserve  profound  regard. 

Individuals  there  are  who  are  doing  something,  though  it  would  be  diffi- 
cult to  specify  what.  They  are  busy,  but  it  is  a  busy  idleness.  To  annihi- 
late time,  to  quiet  conscience,  to  banish  care,  to  keep  ennui  out  of  one  door, 
and  serious  thoughts  out  of  the  other,  gives  them  all  their  occupation.  And, 
betwixt  their  flattering  visits  and  frivolous  enjoyments,  their  midnight  di- 
versions, their  haggard  mornings,  and  shortened  days,  their  yawning  attempts 
at  reading,  and  sulky  application  to  matters  of  business  which  they  cannot 
well  evade;  betwixt  mobs  of  callers,  and  shoals  of  ceremonious  notes,  they 
fuss  and  fret  themselves  into  the  pleasant  belief  that  they  are  the  most  wor- 
ried and  hard-driven  of  mortal  men  To  flit  about  from  house  to  house ;  to 
pay  futile  visits,  where,  if  the  talk  were  written  down,  it  would  amount  to 
little  more  than  the  chattering  of  a  swallow ;  to  bestow  all  your  thoughts 
on  graceful  attitudes,  and  nimble  movements,  and  polished  attire;  to  roam 
from  land  to  land,  with  so  little  information  in  your  head,  or  so  little  taste 
for  the  sublime  and  beautiful  in  your  soul,  that  could  a  swallow  publish  his 
travels,  and  did  you  publish  yours,  we  should  probably  find  the  one  a  coun- 
terpart of  the  other :  the  winged  traveller  enlarging  on  the  discomforts  of  his 
nest,  and  the  wingless  one  on  the  miseries  of  his  hotel  or  his  chateau ;  jrou 
describing  the  places  of  amusement,  or  enlarging  on  the  vastness  of  the 
country  and  the  abundance  of  the  game,  and  your  rival  eloquent  on  the  self- 
same things.  Oh,  it  is  a  thought  not  ridiculous,  but  appalling.  If  the 
earthly  history  of  some  were  written  down;  if  a  faithful  record  were  kept 
of  the  way  they  spend  their  time ;  if  all  the  hours  of  idle  vacancy  or  idler 
occupancy  were  put  together,  and  the  very  small  amount  of  useful  diligence 
deducted,  the  life  of  a  bird  or  quadruped  would  be  a  nobler  one — more  wor- 
thy of  its  powers,  and  more  equal  to  its  Creator's  end  in  forming  it.  Suck 
a  register  is  kept.  Though  the  trifler  does  not  chronicle  his  own  vain  words 
and  wasted  hours,  tfhey  chronicle  themselves.  They  find  their  indelible 
place  in  that  book  of  remembrance  with  which  human  hand  cannot  tamper, 
and  from  which  no  erasure  save  one  can  blot  them. 

293.  Jill  exerts:  It  is  unusual  to  connect  the  adjective  all.  with  a  verb  in 
the  singular,  but  perhaps  the  expression  may  here  be  justified  on  the  ground 
that  concentration  is  thus  given  to  the  thought ;  as  though  it  were  said  total- 
ity exerts  (itself ').     Or  it  may  be  regarded  as  equivalent  to  the  phrase,  every- 


NIGHT    II.  119 

More  than  creation  labours  ! — labours  more  ? 

And  is  there  in  creation,  what,  amidst  295 

This  tumult  universal,  wing'd  despatch, 

And  ardent  energy,  supinely  yawns  ? — 

Man  sleeps,  and  man  alone ;  and  man  whose  fate, 

Fate  irreversible,  entire,  extreme, 

Endless,  hair-bung,  breeze  shaken,  o'er  the  gulf  3   I 

A  moment  trembles  ;  drops  !  and  man,  for  whom 

All  else  is  in  alarm  ;  man,  the  sole  cause 

Of  this  surrounding  storm  !  and  yet  he  sleeps, 

As  the  storm  rock'd  to  rest. — Throw  years  away  \ 

Throw  empires,  and  be  blameless.     Moments  seize,  305 

.thins;  exerts  itself ,  thus  bringing  up  the  idea  of  a  universal  individuality  being 
engaged.  This  thought  is  expressed  in  the  words  that  follow  and  which 
may  be  regarded  as  explanatory  of  the  clause  we  have  been  considering — in 
effort  all,  that  is,  all  things  are  employed. 

294.  Labours  more  ?  Does  more  than  creation  labour? 

300.  Hair-hung :  Hung  by  a  hair.  All  the  epithets  here  applied  to  the 
fate  of  man  are  exceedingly  appropriate,  and  admirably  well  chosen. 

305.  Throw  empires,  &c.  :  Empires  are  less  valuable  than  years.  Even 
moments  should  be  seized  and  appropriated,  since  Heav'ns  on  their  icing.  If 
not  seized  at  once  they  are  gone  ;  they  are  on  the  icing. 

A  few  remarks  from  Robertson's  Charles  V.  are  appropriate.  '''Though 
it  requires  neither  deep  reflection  nor  extraordinary  discernment  to  discover 
that  the  state  of  royalty  is  not  exempt  from  cares  and  disappointment ; 
though  most  of  those  who  are  exalted  to  a  throne  find  solicitude,  and  satiety, 
and  disgust  to  be  their  perpetual  attendants  in  that  envied  pre-eminence  ; 
yet  to  descend  voluntarily  from  the  supreme  to  a  subordinate  station,  and 
to  relinquish  the  possession  of  power  in  order  to  attain  the  enjoyment  of 
happiness,  seems  to  be  an  effort  too  great  for  the  human  mind.  Several  in- 
stances, indeed,  occur  in  history,  of  monarchs  who  have  quitted  a  throne,  and 
have  ended  their  days  in  retirement.  But  they  were  either  weak  princes, 
from  whose  hands  some  stronger  rival  had  wrested  their  sceptre,  and  com- 
pelled them  to  descend  with  reluctance  into  a  private  station.  Dioclesian 
is  perhaps  the  only  prince  capable  of  holding  the  reins  of  government,  who 
ever  resigned  them  from  deliberate  choice,  and  who  continued  during  many 
years  to  enjoy  the  tranquillity  of  retirement  without  fetching  one  penitent 
sigh,  or  casting  bad:  one  look  of  desire,  towards  the  power  or  dignity  which 
he  had  abandoned." 

In  the  advice  given  by  Dr.  Young.  Throw  empires  away,  we   are  reminded 


120  THE    COMPLAINT-, 

Heav'n's  on  their  wing  :  a  moment  we  may  wish, 

"When  worlds  want  wealth  to  buy.     Bid  Day  stand  still ; 

Bid  him  drive  back  his  car,  and  re-import 

The  period  past,  re-give  the  given  hour. 

Lorenzo,  more  than  miracles  we  want,  3 1  N 

Lorenzo — O  for  yesterdays  to  come  ! 

Such  is  the  language  of  the  man  awake ; 
His  ardour  such  for  what  oppresses  thee. 
And  is  his  ardour  vain,  Lorenzo  ?     No  ; 

That  more  than  miracle  the  gods  indulge.  315 

To-day  is  yesterday  retum'd  ;  return'd 
Full-power'd  to  cancel,  expiate,  raise,  adorn, 
And  reinstate  us  on  the  rock  of  peace. 
Let  it  not  share  its  predecessor's  fate, 
Nor,  like  its  eldest  sisters,  die  a  fool.  3  '20 

of  the  singular  example  of  Charles  V.  who  when  only  about  fifty-five  years 
old,  voluntarily  relinquished  to  his  son  Philip  his  vast  dominions,  embracing 
Germany,  Austria,  the  Netherlands,  Italy,  and  Spain,  and  retiied  to  a  mon- 
astery in  Spain,  that  he  might  be  altogether  relieved  from  the  cares  of  gov- 
ernment, and  the  pursuits  of  ambition,  and  prepare  himself  for  another 
world,  of  his  approach  to  which  he  had  for  some  time  been  painfully  ad- 
monished by  the  inroads  upon  his  constitution  of  an  incurable  disorder.  It 
has  been  said  that  he  renounced  his  authority  over  his  extensive  dominions, 
in  disgust,  because  he  could  not  make  them  greater,  and  because  his  favourite 
schemes  were  defeated  and  abandoned ;  and  because  he  sickened  at  the  un- 
substantial enjoyment  of  power  and  dominion.  But  while  these  things  may 
have  had  some  share  in  bringing  about  the  result,  it  is  probable  that  the 
chief  cause  was  the  declining  state  of  his  health,  which  unfitted  him  for  a 
proper  care  of  such  vast  dominions. 

306.  A  moment  we  may  wish,  &c. :  The  volumes  of  biography  teem  with 
instances  of  this  melancholy  truth. 

311.  O for  yesterdays  to  come:  a  striking  way  of  expressing  the  wish  for 
a  repetition  of  our  past  days,  or  for  the  privilege  of  enjoying  them  once 
more  that  we  might  more  wisely  occupy  them  in  thought  and  action. 

315.  The  gods  indulge  :  A  heathen  mode  of  expression  entirely  unworthy 
of  a  Cliristian   poet. 

320.  Its  eldest  sisters :  a  beautiful  personification  for  the  days  that  have 
preceded  the  present.  But  while  this  figure  pleases  us,  we  are  immediately 
offended  by  the  incongruity  of  what  follows.  It  is  asked,  shall  it  evaporate  in 
fume  (smoke  .  fi'l  off  fuliginous  (sooty) .  and  stain,  &c      Who  would  think  of 


NIGHT    II.  121 


Shall  it  evaporate  in  fume,  fly  off 
Fuliginous,  and  stain  us  deeper  still  ? 
Shall  we  be  poorer  for  the  plenty  pour'd  ? 
More  wretched  for  the  clemencies  of  Heav'n ' 


SMILING    YESTERDAYS. 

Where  shall  I  find  him  ?     Angels,  tell  me  where  :  325 

You  know  him  :  he  is  near  you :  point  him  out. 
Shall  I  see  glories  beaming  from  his  brow, 
Or  trace  his  footsteps  by  the  rising  flowers  ? 
Your  golden  wings,  now  hov'ring  o'er  him,  shed 
Protection;  now  are  waving  in  applause  330 

To  that  blest  son  of  foresight ;  lord  of  fate  ! 
That  awful  independent  on  to-morrow  ! 
Whose  work  is  done ;  who  triumphs  in  the  past, 
Whose  yesterdays  look  backward  with  a  smile  ; 
Nor,  like  the  Parthian,  wound  him  as  they  fly  :  335 

asking  such  questions  in  regard  to  a  person  ?  What  possible  application  have 
they  to  a  day,  considered  as  one  of  a  large  family  of  sisters?  It  is  a  promi- 
nent fault  even  of  this  highly-gifted  poet  to  spoil  a  figure  by  either  carrying 
it  too  far,  by  changing  it  into  another,  or  by  appending  some  things  that  are 
incongruous,  of  course  changing  even  a  bright  and  beautiful  image  into  an 
obscure  and  confused  one. 

324.  More  wretched,  &c. :  "  "When  once,"  says  a  powerful  writer,  "this life 
of  wondrous  opportunities  and  awful  advantages  is  over;  when  the  twenty 
or  fifty  years  of  probation  are  iled  away  ;  when  mortal  existence,  with  its 
facilities  for  personal  improvement  and  serviceableness  to  others,  is  gone 
beyond  recall ;  when  the  trifler  looks  back  to  the  long  pilgrimage,  with  all 
the  doors  of  hope  and  doors  of  usefulness,  past  which  he  skipped  in  his  frisky 
forgetfulness ;  what  anguish  will  it  move  to  think  that  he  has  gambolled 
through  such  a  world  without  salvation  to  himself,  without  any  real  benefit 
to  his  brethren,  a  busy  trifler,  a  vivacious  idler,  a  clever  fool ! 

325.  Him :  Reference  is  made  to  the  son  of  foresight,  eye,  described  (331-4) . 
335.  Like  the  Parthian,  &c. :  This  singular  mode  of  warfare  was  practised 

by  that  ancient  oriental  nation,  and  is  thus  alluded  to  by  Horace,  the  great 
Roman  satirist — 

"  Mites  (timet)  sagitta*  et  cdcremfuga<m 
Parthir—OA.  13,  Book  II. 

0 


J  22  THE    COMPLAINT. 

That  common  but  opprobrious  lot !     Past  hours, 

If  not  by  guilt,  yet  wound  us  by  their  flight, 

If  folly  bounds  our  prospect  by  the  grave, 

All  feeling  of  futurity  benumb'd ; 

All  god-like  passion  for  eternals  quench'd;  340 

All  relish  of  realities  expired  ; 

Renounced  all  correspondence  with  the  skies : 

Or  freedom  chain'd ;  quite  wingless  our  desire  ; 

In  sense  dark-prison'd  all  that  ought  to  soar ; 

Prone  to  the  centre ;  crawling  in  the  dust ;  345 

Dismounted  ev'ry  great  and  glorious  aim ; 

Embruted  ev'ry  faculty  divine  : 

Heart-buried  in  the  rubbish  of  the  world, 

The  world,  that  gulf  of  souls,  immortal  souls, 

Souls  elevate,  angelic,  wing'd  with  fire  350 

To  reach  the  distant  skies,  and  triumph  there 

On  thrones,  which  shall  not  mourn  their  masters  changed  ; 

Though  we  from  earth,  ethereal  they  that  fell. 

Such  veneration  due,  O  man,  to  man. 

CONTEMPT    OF    THE    WORLD. 

Who  venerate  themselves  the  world  despise  355 

"  Nee  patitur  Scythas 
Et  versis  animosnmi  eqida 
Parthum  clicere." — OiL  19,  Bk.  I. 

The  mode  of  fighting  (says  Anthon)  was  peculiar,  and  well  calculated  to 
annoy.  When  apparently  in  full  retreat,  they  would  turn  round  on  their 
steeds  and  discharge  their  arrows  with  the  most  unerring  accuracy;  and 
hence,  to  borrow  the  language  of  an  ancient  writer,  it  was  victory  to  them 
if  a  counlerteited  flight  threw  their  enemies  into  disorder. 

The  fitness  of  the  comparison  in  the  text  will,  in  view  of  this  account,  be 
easily  and  fully  appreciated. 

345.  Prone  to  the  centre:  That  is.  of  the  earth. 

350.  Elevate:  Elevated. 

352.  Masters  changed:  Men,  in  place  of  the  angels  that  were  hurled  from 
them  on  account  of  their  apostacy. 

353.  Though  ice  are  of  mi  humble  orig-in — from  the  earth;  while  thev  that 
fell  are  ethereal  in  their  nature 


NIGHT    II.  123 

For  what,  gay  friend,  is  this  escutcheon'd  world. 

Which  hangs  out  death  in  one  eternal  night  1 

A  nio-ht,  that  glooms  us  hi  the  noon- tide  ray, 

And  wraps  our  thought,  at  banquets,  in  the  shroud. 

Life's  little  stage  is  a  small  eminence,  360 

Inch-high  the  grave  above ;  that  home  of  man. 

Where  dwells  the  multitude ;  we  gaze  around  ; 

"We  read  their  monuments ;  we  sigh  ;  and  while 

We  sigh,  we  sink ;  and  are  what  we  deplored  ; 

Lamenting,  or  lamented,  all  our  lot !  365 

TAST   HOURS. 

Is  death  at  distance  ?     No  :  he  has  been  on  thee ; 
And  giv'n  sure  earnest  of  his  final  blow. 
Those  horn's  which  lately  smiled,  where  are  they  now  ? 
Pallid  to  thought,  and  ghastly !  drownd,  all  drownd 
In  that  great  deep,  which  nothing  disembogues  !  370 

And,  dying,  they  bequeath'd  thee  small  renown. 
The  rest  are  on  the  wing  :  how  fleet  their  flight ! 
Already  has  the  fatal  train  took  fire ; 
A  moment,  and  the  world's  blown  up  to  thee ; 
The  sun  is  darkness,  and  the  stars  are  dust.  375 

3S6.  Escutcheon1  d  world :  Gay,  ornamented  world.  In  the  days  of  chivalry 
knights  were  distinguished  from  each  other  hy  the  emblems  or  devices  im- 
printed on  their  escutcheon  (shield1),  sometimes  upon  their  banner,  sometime? 
upon  a  short  garment  which  they  wore  above  their  armor,  hence  denomi- 
nated a  coat  of  arms.  Military  companies,  families  of  distinction,  and  na- 
tions, have  long  been  accustomed  to  employ  certain  emblems  by  way  of 
distinction  or  honor.  These  devices  or  emblems  are  usually  called  a  coat  of 
arms,  and  in  modern  limes  are  often  impressed  on  carriages  or  articles  of 
furniture.  The  science  of  heraldry  takes  charge  of  these  very  importan 
modes  of  distinction  ! 

367.  Earnest :  Pledge,  premonition. 

369.  Pallid  to  thought :  Pallid  not  to  the  eye,  but  to  thought,  or  in  view 
of  the  mind. 

370.  Which  nothing  disembogues:  Which  empties  nothing  out  again,  but 
retains  what  it  has  received. 

375.    Stars  are  dust  :   Arc  reduced  to  dust ;  the  present  tense  used,  instead 


124  THE    COMPLAINT. 

'Tis  greatly  wise  to  talk  with  our  past  hours ; 
And  ask  them,  what  report  they  bore  to  heav'n  ; 
And  how  they  might  have  borne  more  welcome  news. 
Their  answers  form  what  men  experience  call ; 
If  Wisdom's  friend,  her  best;  if  not,  worst  foe.  "SO 

0  reconcile  them  !     Kind  Experience  cries, 

'  There's  nothing  here,  but  what  as  nothing  weighs  ; 
'  The  more  our  joy,  the  more  we  know  it  vain ; 

1  And  by  success  are  tutor'd  to  despair.' 

Nor  is  it  only  thus,  but  must  be  so.  385 

Who  knows  not  this,  though  gray,  is  still  a  child. 
Loose  then  from  earth  the  grasp  of  fond  desire, 
Weigh  anchor,  and  some  happier  clime  explore. 

THE    SUN-DIAL    ADMONISHES. 

Art  thou  so  moor'd  thou  canst  not  disengage, 
Nor  give  thy  thoughts  a  ply  to  future  scenes  ?  390 

Since  by  life's  passing  breath,  blown  up  from  earth, 
Light  as  the  summer's  dust,  we  take  in  air 
A  moment's  giddy  flight,  and  fall  again ; 
Join  the  dull  mass,  increase  the  trodden  soil, 

of  the  future,  to  indicate  the  more  certain  accomplishment  of  the  event  and 
to  present  it  more  vividly  before  the  mind.  The  line  is  a  very  impressive 
one. 

379-384.  This  passage  has  several  obscurities,  but  we  shall  endeavor  to 
bring  out  the  author's  meaning  Their  answers  form,  §c. :  the  history  of 
our  past  hours  constitutes  experience,  or  is  a  record  of  it.  If  WisdonCs  friend, 
fyc.  :  If  our  past  hours  have  been  a  friend  to  wisdom,  (have  been  wisely 
employed,)  they  are  her  best  friend:  if  not  thus  employed,  they  have  been 
her  worst  foe.  0  reconcile  them  :  Oh  reconcile  your  hours  to  wisdom ;  em- 
ploy them  hereafter  as  wisdom  counsels  you.  Kind  Experience  cries,  fyr. : 
Experience  kindly  admonishes  you  that  earthly  pursuits  are  vain.  The  ni«- 
tory  of  past  hours  utters  this  language.  Even  the  success  of  worldly  enter 
prises  has  served  to  make  us  despair  of  any  happier  result. 

387-9.  The  expressions  loosv,  weigh  anchor,  and  moored,  are  appropriate  to 
the  figure  of  a  vessel  at  anchor,  in  which  the  reader  is  imagined  to  be. 
390.   A  phi:   A  turn,  or  direction. 


.siairr  ii.  126 

And  sleep,  till  Earth  herself  shall  be  no  more  ;  39-5 

Since  then  (as  emmets,  then  small  world  o'erthrown) 

We,  sore  amazed,  from  out  Earth's  ruins  crawl, 

And  rise  to  fate  extreme  of  foul  or  fair, 

As  man's  own  choice,  (controller  of  the  skies) 

As  man's  despotic  will,  perhaps  one  hour,  400 

(0  how  omnipotent  is  time  !)  decrees  ; 

Should  not  each  warning  give  a  strong  alarm  ? 

"Warning,  far  less  than  that  of  bosom  torn 

From  bosom,  bleeding  o'er  the  sacred  dead  ; 

Should  not  each  dial  strike  us  as  we  pass,  405 

Portentous,  as  the  written  wall  which  struck, 

O'er  midnight  bowls,  the  proud  Assyrian  pale, 

Erewhile  high-flush'd  with  insolence  and  wine  ? 

Like  that  the  dial  speaks,  and  points  to  thee, 

Lorenzo  !  loth  to  break  thy  banquet  up  :  410 

'  0  man  !  thy  kingdom  is  departing  from  thee  ; 

And,  while  it  lasts,  is  emptier  than  my  shade.' 

Its  silent  language  such  ;  nor  need'st  thou  call 

Thy  magi  to  decipher  what  it  means. 

Know,  like  the  Median,  Fate  is  in  thy  walls ;  415 

Dost  ask  how  ?  whence  ?  Belshazzar-like  amazed  ! 

Man's  make  encloses  the  sine  seeds  of  death ; 

Life  feeds  the  murderer  :  ingrate  !  he  thrives 

On  her  own  meal,  and  then  his  nurse  devours. 

ALL   MISTAKE   THEIR   TIME    OF   DAY. 

But  here,  Lorenzo,  the  delusion  lies  ;  420 

395-6i  The  illustration  drawn  from  the  emmets  (or  ants)  is  remarkably 
graphic. 

399.  Controller  of  the  skies :  Not  in  the  sense  of  ruler  of  the  skies ;  but  our 
own  choice  decides  whether  we  shall  inhabit  heaven  or  not. 

407.  Proud  Assyrian  pale :  The  Assyrian  monarch,  Belshazzar.  The  fact 
alluded  to  is  fully  described  in  the  prophecy  of  Daniel,  chap.  iv. 

414.  Magi :  men  who  pretended  by  aid  of  astrology,  to  foretell  events. 

417.  Man's  make-  Man's  bodily  structure,  or  constitution. 

419.   On  her  own  meal :  Or  the  same  food  that  life  does,  and  then  devours 


120  THE    COMPLAINT. 

That  solar  shadow,  as  it  measures  life. 

It  life  resembles  too :  Life  speeds  away 

From  point  to  point,  though  seeming  to  stand  stilL 

The  cunning  fugitive  is  swift  by  stealth  : 

Too  subtle  is  the  movement  to  be  seen  •  1 2  5 

Yet  soon  man's  hour  B  up,  and  we  are  gone. 

Warnings  point  out  our  danger  ;  gnomons,  time ! 

As  these  are  useless  when  the  sun  is  set ; 

So  those,  but  when  more  glorious  reason  shines. 

Reason  should  judge  in  all ;  in  reason's  eye,  430 

That  sedentary  shadow  travels  hard : 

But  such  our  gravitation  to  the  wrong, 

So  prone  our  hearts  to  whisper  what  we  wish, 

'Tis  later  with  the  wise  than  he's  aware  : 

A  Wilmington  goes  slower  than  the  sun  ;  435 

And  all  mankind  mistake  their  time  of  day ; 

E'en  age  itself.     Fresh  hopes  are  hourly  sown 

his  nurse  (life) .  The  same  food  which  supports  lift  furnishes  material  for 
death  and  the  grave  to  feed  upon,  to  devour. 

421.    Solar  shadow  :  Shadow  on  the  sun-dial. 

427.  Gnomons:  The  gnomon  is  the  index  or  pin  on  the  sun-dial,  which  in 
the  sun-light  casts  a  shadow,  and  thus  indicates  upon  a  graduated  circle  the 
time  of  day.  Dials  were  invented  by  the  Chaldeans  in  a  remote  anti- 
quity. 

429.  More  glorious  reason:  More  glorious  than  the  sun.  Warnings  are 
delivered  in  vain  unless  men  are  in  the  exercise  of  reason,  just  as  the  dial  is 
useless  if  the  sun  does  not  shine. 

431.  That  sedentary  shadow:  That  slowly  moving,  or,  as  it  seems,  station- 
ary shadow,  travels  fast  in  the  view  of  reason. 

435.  A  Wilmington,  &c. :  The  Earl  of  Wilmington  to  whom  this  Night 
is  addressed.  The  meaning  probably  is,  that  his  calculations  are  behind  the 
real  time  :  he  is  older  than  he  supposes  ;  he  has  less  time  than  he  imagines 
for  the  accomplishment  of  the  plans  he  may  have  formed.  So  far  as  a  gen- 
tle reproof  is  conveyed  in  this  statement,  our  author,  lest  it  should  give 
offence  to  the  titled  dignitary,  softens  it  not  a  little  by  involving  all  men  in 
the  same  charge — and  all  mankind  mistalec  their  time  of  day.  So  understood, 
this  line  explains  the  one  before  it. 


NIGHT    II.  127 

In  furrow'd  brows.     So  gentle's  life's  descent, 

"We  shut  our  eyes,  and  think  it  is  a  plain. 

We  take  fair  days  in  winter  for  the  spring,  440 

And  turn  our  blessings  into  bane.     Since  oft 

Man  must  compute  that  age  he  cannot  feel, 

He  scarce  believes  he's  older  for  his  years  : 

Thus  at  life's  latest  eve,  we  keep  in  store 

One  disappointment  sure,  to  crown  the  rest ;  44-J 

The  disappointment  of  a  promised  horn. 

UTILITY    OF   RATIONAL    CONVERSATION. 

On  this  or  similar,  Philander,  thou, 
"Whose  mind  was  moral  as  the  preacher's  tongue  ; 
And  strong,  to  wield  all  science,  worth  the  name  ; 
How  often  we  talk'd  down  the  summer's  sun,  450 

And  cool'd  our  passions  by  the  breezy  stream  ! 
How  often  thaw'd  and  shorten'd  winter's  eve, 
By  conflict  kind,  that  struck  our  latent  truth, 
Best  found,  so  sought ;  to  the  recluse  more  coy ! 

438.  In  furrow  'J  brows :  The  idea  of  new  hopes  continually  arising  even 
in  advanced  life,  could  not  have  been  more  beautifully  expressed. 

443-  Older  for  his  years :  Older  in  consequence  of  the  years  he  has  passed ; 
or  older,  notwithstanding  the  years  he  has  seen. 

447.  Similar:  Similar  subjects.  Philander!  thou  whose  mind,  §c:  The 
grammatical  construction  here  is  obscure,  and  at  first  glance  seems  imper- 
fect ;  but  it  may  be  defended,  by  suggesting  that,  from  thou  to  name  (449 ) 
inclusive,  the  words  are  merely  descriptive  of  Philander,  who,  being  dead, 
is  here  addressed  by  the  rhetorical  figure  of  Apostrophe.  Thou  stands  in  ap- 
position with  Philander.  The  words  from  thou  to  name  might,  with  advan- 
tage to  the  reader,  have  been  included  in  a  parenthesis. 

451-2.  Thaw'd  and  shorten'd  winters  eve:  To  be  taken  of  course  in  a  figu- 
rative sense  ;  meaning  that  their  mutual  conversation  was  conducted  with  so 
much  pleasant  warmth  that  the  coldness  of  the  winter  evening  was  made  to 
appear  less  intense,  and  its  length  failed  to  be  observed. 

454.  Best  found,  so  sought :  The  meaning  is,  that  the  collision  of  two  or 
more  minds  in  free  and  rational  conversation  is  the  most  thorough  and  the 
most  easy  mode  of  eliciting  truth,  which  to  the  recluse  or  private  student  is 


128  THE    COMPLAINT. 

Thoughts  disentangle,  passing  o'er  the  lip ;  455 

Clean  runs  the  thread ;  if  not,  'tis  thrown  away, 

Or  kept  to  tie  up  nonsense  for  a  song  ; 

Song,  fashionably  fruitless  ;  such  as  stains 

The  fancy,  and  unhallow'd  passion  fires, 

Chiming  her  saints  to  Cytherea's  fane.  4(H) 

Know'st  thou,  Lorenzo,  what  a  friend  contains  2 
As  bees  mix'd  nectar  draw  from  fragrant  flow'rs, 
So  men  from  friendship,  wisdom  and  delight ; 
Twins  tied  by  Nature  ;  if  they  part  they  die. 
Hast  thou  no  friend  to  set  thy  mind  abroach  ?  405 

Good  sense  will  stagnate.     Thoughts  shut  up,  want  air, 
And  spoil,  like  bales  unopen'd  to  the  sun. 
Had  thought  been  all,  sweet  speech  had  been  denied  : 
Speech,  thought's  canal !  speech,  thought's  criterion  too  ! 
Thought  in  the  mine  may  come  forth  gold  or  dross  ;  4  7  0 

When  coin'd  in  word,  we  know  its  real  worth  : 
If  sterling,  store  it  for  thy  future  use  ; 

more  coy,  difficult  to  be  approached.     Allusion  is  made  in  this  word  to  a 
modest,  retiring  maiden,  whose  acquaintance  is  sought. 

."  Like  Daphne  she,  as  lovely  and  as  coy.'' — Waller. 
This  figure  under  which  Truth  is  represented  is  beautiful  in  itself,  yet  it 
fails  to  be  approved  by  good  taste,  from  its  incongruity  with  the  figure  under 
which  Truth  had  in  the  same  connexion  been  represented,  namely,  that  of 
sparks  struck  out  by  the  collision  of  flint  and  steel. 

456.  The  thread :  The  thread  of  thought.  The  comparison  is  well  carried 
out  in  this  passage. 

457.  To  tie  up  nonsense  for  a  song:  A  severe  satire  upon  the  particular 
class  of  songs,  a  description  of  which  is  subjoined  ;  trashy,  profitless,  pollut- 
ing to  the  imagination  and  provocative  of  unhallowed  passion,  chiming  her 
saints  to  Cxjthered!  s  fane,  that  is  to  say,  moving  the  devotees  of  unhallowed  pas- 
sion to  the  temple  of  Venus,  one  of  whose  classical  names  is  Cytherea. 

464.  Twins  tied  by  Nature  :  A  beautiful  figure,  and  a  most  useful  thought. 
Wisdom  and  Delight  are  born  together,  and  live  united  in  bonds  indissoluble, 
if  they  part  they  die.  And  these  are  said  to  be  derived  from  Friendship,  from 
Friendship  exerting  itself  in  rational  communications.  They  should  (for 
the  sake  of  congruity)  have  been  represented  as  the  offspring  of  Friendship. 

465.  To  set  thy  mind  abroach  :  At  liberty — to  cause  your  thoughts  to  flow 
472.  If  sterling  :  If  of  excellent  quality,  of  standard  worth. 


NIGHT    II.  129 

Twill  buy  thee  benefit,  perhaps  renown. 

Thought,  too,  deliver'd,  is  the  more  possess'd ; 

Teaching  we  learn,  and  giving  we  retain  47S 

The  births  of  intellect ;  when  dumb,  forgot. 

Speech  ventilates  our  intellectual  fire ; 

Speech  burnishes  our  mental  magazine  ; 

Brightens  for  ornament,  and  whets  for  use. 

What  numbers,  sheatlvd  in  erudition,  lie  480 

Plunged  to  the  hilts  in  venerable  tomes, 

And  rusted  in  ;  who  might  have  borne  an  edge, 

And  play'd  a  sprightly  beam,  if  born  to  speech! 

If  born  blest  heirs  of  half  their  mother's  tongue  ; 

'Tis  thought's  exchange,  which,  like  th'  alternate  push         485 

Of  waves  conflicting,  breaks  the  learned  scum, 

And  defecates  the  student's  standing  pool. 

In  contemplation  is  his  proud  resource  ? 

'Tis  poor,  as  proud,  by  converse  unsustain'd. 

Rude  thought  runs  wild  in  Contemplation's  held ;  490 

474.  Thought,  too,  &c.  :  There  are  several  verbal  antitheses  in  this  passage 
that  give  force  and  vivacity  to  the  thought ; — deliver d — -possess'd — teaching — 
learn  :  giving — retain. 

476.  When  dumb,  forgot :  When  tnought  does  not  give  utterance  to  itself, 
when  it  is  not  communicated  it  is  forgotten. 

4S0.  What  numbers,  sheath' d,  &c.  :  A  certain  class  of  men  is  here  com- 
pared to  old  swords  rusting  in  their  sheaths.  The  sheath  consists  of  venera- 
ble tomes  (volumes)  of  erudition,  into  which  they  (the  swords)  are  plunged 
up  to  the  hilt,  and  are  rusted  in.  Our  author  satirizes  those  hard  students  of 
books  who  acquire  great  learning  but  make  no  use  of  it ;  and  whose  minds 
from  the  neglect  of  speech,  (like  rusty  swords)  have  lost  the  edge,  and  can 
no  longer  p/ay  a  sprightly  beam,  or  exhibit  the  sprightly  gleam  of  thought 
which  breaks  forth  in  the  lively  interchange  of  sentiment  in  conversation 
with  intelligent  friends. 

487.  Defecates:  Cleanses  from  dregs ;  makes  clear. 

489.  As  proud :  The  idea  is,  that  students,  who  refuse  to  replenish  their 
minds  by  conversation  with  their  friends,  contract  at  the  same  time,  and  by 
the  same  process,  intellectual  poverty  and  pride. 

490.  Runs  wild:  Thought  is  here  represented  as  a  ivild  horse,  galloping  in 
the  field  of  contemplation.  The  menage  is  the  horse-tamer,  an  office  assigned 
♦o  conversation  ;  while  emulation  is  the  spur. 

6* 


]  JO  THE    COMPLAINT. 

Converse,  the  menage,  breaks  it  to  the  bit 

Of  due  restraint,  and  emulation's  spur 

Gives  graceful  energy,  by  rivals  awed. 

'Tis  converse  qualifies  for  solitude, 

As  exercise  for  solitary  rest :  495 

By  that  untutor'd,  Contemplation  raves, 

And  Nature's  fool  bv  Wisdom's  is  outdone. 


FRIENDSHIP,    THE    MEANS    OF    HAPPINESS. 

Wisdom,  though  richer  than  Peruvian  mines, 
And  sweeter  than  the  sweet  ambrosial  hive, 
What  is  she  but  the  means  of  happiness  ?  500 

That  unobtain'd,  than  folly  more  a  fool ; 
A  melancholy  fool,  without  her  bells. 
Friendship,  the  means  of  wisdom,  richly  gives 
The  precious  end  which  makes  our  wisdom  wise. 
Nature,  in  zeal  for  human  amity,  505 

Denies  or  damps  an  undivided  joy. 
Joy  is  an  import ;  joy  is  an  exchange  ; 
Joy  flies  monojxjlists  ;  it  calls  for  two : 
Rich  fruit !  heav'n-planted  !  never  pluck'd  by  one. 

497.  Nature'' s  fool :  or  the  idiot,  is  outdone  by  Wisdom'' s  fool,  the  educated 
fool  ;  the  man  of  learning  and  study,  whose  mind  has  not  been  disciplined  by 
rational  intercourse  with  persons  of  refinement  and  of  sound  sense. 

501.  That:  happiness. 

502.  Fool,  without  her  bells :  Our  author  here  probably  alludes  to  the  ancient 
practice  among  kings,  and  other  persons  of  rank,  of  employing  a  buffoon,  to  act 
as  a  jester  and  a  butt  of  ridicule.  He  is  described  as  being  usually  dressed 
most  fantastically,  with  a  cap  having  a  red  stripe  on  the  top,  which  was 
called  a  coxcomb ;  he  also  is  said  to  have  carried  a  short  stick,  with  a  head 
carved  on  the  end,  and  surmounted  in  some  cases  with  a  small  bladder, 
partly  filled  with  peas  and  grave),  with  which  he  made  frolicksome  attacks 
upon  those  who  sought  to  be  amused  by  him.  It  is  probable  that  tinkling 
bells  constituted  in  many  cases  a  part  of  his  finery 

505-6.  To  promote  human  amity  (friendship) ,  Nature  denies  or  damps  al) 
joys  which  are  not  divided  or  shared  with  others. 


1.11 


Needful  auxitiars  are  our  friend?,  to  give  o  1') 

To  social  man  true  relish  of  himself. 
Full  on  ourselves  descending  in  a  line, 
Pleasure's  bright  beam  is  feeble  in  delight : 
Delight  intense  is  taken  by  rebound  ; 

Reverberated  pleasures  fire  the  breast.  olo 

stial  happiness  !  whene'er  she  stoops 

510.  Needful  auxiliars,  &c.  :  To  take  friendship  from  life,  says  Cicero, 
would  be  almost  the  same  thing  as  to  take  the  sun  from  the  world:  "  So- 
lem  a  rnundo  tollere  videntur  qui  amicitiam  e  vita  tollunt."  It  is  indeed  the 
sunshine  of  those  who  otherwise  would  walk  in  darkness;  it  beams  with 
unclouded  radiance  on  our  moral  palh,  and  is  itself  warmth  and  beauty  to 
the  very  path  along  which  it  invites  us  to  proceed.  He  knows  not  how 
poor  all  the  splendors  of  worldly  prosperity  are  in  themselves  who  enjoys 
them  with  that  increase  of  happiness  which  friendship  has  given  to  them  ; 
and  he  who  is  still  rich  enough  to  have  a  friend  cannot  know  what  extreme 
poverty  and  misery  are.  because  the  only  misery  which  is  truly  misery  is 
that  which  has  no  one  to  comfort  it. — Brown's  Phil.,  vol.  Hi.  3S7. 

512.  Full:  Exclusively. 

515.  Reverberated:  Reflected;  those  pleasures  which  we  derive  from 
others.  An  illustration  of  these  may  be  found  in  the  sincere  and  elegant 
friendship  which  subsisted  between  Scipio,  one  of  the  greatest  of  Roman 
generals,  and  Laelius,  one  of  the  wisest  and  most  eloquent  of  Roman  citi- 
zens. It  is  portrayed  by  Cicero  in  his  work  De  Amieilia — who  in  regard 
to  those  distinguished  fellow  countrymen  remarks : — "  What  a  consolation 
is  it  to  have  a  second-self,  to  whom  we  have  nothing  secret,  and  into  whose 
heart  we  ma.y  pour  our  own  with  perfect  unreserve !  Could  we  taste  pros- 
perity so  sensibly,  if  we  had  no  one  to  share  with  us  in  our  joy  ?  And  what 
a  relief  is  it  in  adversity  to  have  a  friend  still  more  affected  with  it  than 
ourselves."  But  the  friendship  of  these  individuals  derived  much  of  its  value 
and  beauty  from  its  eminent  disinterestedness,  and  the  foundation  it  had  in  a 
high  esteem  of  each  other's  virtues.  "We  both,"  says  Laelius,  "derived 
great  advantages  from  it,  but  these  were  not  our  views  when  we  began  to 
love  each  other.' 

Nothing  upon  earth  (says  Dr.  Dodd),  can  be  so  desirable  as  such  an  amity. 
But  in  vain  do  we  seek  it  among  the  ignorant,  the  vain,  the  selfish,  or  men 
of  loose  and  protiigate  principles.  We  must  soon  be  ashamed  of  loving  the 
man  whom  we  cannot  esteem.  It  is  David  and  Jonathan,  it  is  Damon  and 
Pythias,  Tully  and  Atticus,  Scipio  and  Lcelius,  and  such  only  who  can  truly 
taste  and  dignify  pure  friendship:  and  such  only  can  say  with  Ovid,  "Nos 
duo  turt*  sumus ;"  we  two  are  a  multitude. 


182  THE    COMPLAINT. 

To  visit  earth,  one  shrine  the  goddess  finds, 

And  one  alone,  to  make  her  sweet  amends 

For  absent  heav'n — the  bosom  of  a  friend ; 

Where  heart  meets  heart,  reciprocally  soft,  520 

Each  other's  pillow  to  repose  divine. 

Beware  the  counterfeit ;  in  passion's  flame 

Hearts  melt,  but  melt  like  ice,  soon  harder  froze. 

True  love  strikes  root  in  reason,  passion's  foe  ; 

Virtue  alone  en  tenders  us  for  fife :  525 

I  wrong  her  much — entenders  us  for  ever. 

Of  friendship's  fairest  fruits,  the  fruit  most  fair 

Is  virtue  kindling  at  a  rival  fire, 

And  emulously  rapid  in  her  race. 

O  the  soft  enmity!  endearing  strife  !  530 

This  carries  friendship  to  her  noon-tide  point, 

And  gives  the  rivet  of  eternity. 

From  friendship,  which  outlives  my  former  themes, 
Glorious  survivor  of  old  time  and  death  ! 
From  friendship  thus,  that  flow'r  of  heav'nly  seed,  535 

The  wise  extract  earth's  most  Hyblean  bliss, 
Superior  wisdom,  crown'd  with  smiling  joy. 

FRIENDSHIP,    NOT   TO    BE    BOUGHT   WITH    GOLD. 

But  for  whom  blossoms  this  Elysian  flower  ? 
Abroad  they  find  who  cherish  it  at  home. 
Lorenzo,  pardon  what  my  love  extorts,  540 

An  honest  love,  and  not  afraid  to  frown. 

536.  Hyblean  bliss :  Honey'd,  exquisite  bliss ;  the  epithet  is  drawn  from 
TTybla.  a  town  in  Sicily,  famous  for  its  honey. 

538.  Elysian  flower :  Delightful  flower — beautiful  and  fragrant.  Elysium, 
according  to  the  conceptions  of  the  classical  poets,  was  a  region  of  perpetual 
.spring,  of  verdant  fields,  enamelled  with  beautiful  flowers;  abounding  also 
in  shady  groves,  and  watered  with  charming  streams.  In  one  of  Milton's 
poems  we  have  an  allusion  to  the  subject. 

"That  Ovphcus  self  may  heave  his  head 
From  golden  slumber  on  a  bed 
Of  heap'd  Elysian  flowers? 


NIGHT    II.  133 

Though  choice  of  follies  fasten  on  the  great, 

None  clings  more  obstinate  than  fancy  fond, 

That  sacred  friendship  is  then  easy  prey, 

Caught  by  the  wafture  of  a  golden  lure,  545 

Or  fascination  of  a  high-born  smile. 

Their  smiles,  the  great  and  the  coquet  throw  out 

For  other  hearts,  tenacious  of  their  own  ; 

And  we  no  less  of  ours  when  such  the  bait. 

Ye  fortune's  cofferers  !  ye  pow'rs  of  wealth !  550 

You  do  your  rent-rolls  most  felonious  wrong, 

By  taking  our  attachment  to  yourselves. 

Can  gold  gain  friendship  ?     Impudence  of  hope ! 

As  well  mere  man  an  angel  might  beget. 

Love,  and  love  only,  is  the  loan  for  love.  555 

Lorenzo,  pride  repress,  nor  hope  to  find 

A  friend,  but  what  has  found  a  friend  in  thee. 

All  like  the  purchase,  few  the  price  will  pay  *, 

And  this  makes  friends  such  miracles  below. 

HOW    TO    OBTAIN,    AND    TO    TREAT    A    FRIEND. 

What  if  (since  daring  on  so  nice  a  theme)  560 

I  show  thee  friendship  delicate  as  dear, 
Of  tender  violations  apt  to  die  ? 
Reserve  will  wound  it,  and  distrust  destroy ; 
Deliberate  on  all  things  with  thy  friend : 
But  since  friends  grow  not  thick  on  ev'ry  bough,  5G5 

Nor  ev'ry  friend  unrotten  at  the  core  ; 
First  on  thy  friend  delib'rate  with  thyself ; 
Pause,  ponder,  sift ;  not  eager  in  the  choice, 

542-55.  Though  choice  of  follies,  <fcc. :  That  is,  though  the  greatest  follies, 
<fcc.  Thus  Hooker  uses  the  word :  "  The  choice  and  flower  of  all  things  hos- 
pitable," &c. 543,  &c.  Xone,  dec. :  The  great  fancy  that  they  can  com- 
mand friends  by  simply  waving  a  golden  lure,  or  employing  a  condescending 
smile ;  but  our  hearts  are  not  to  be  thus  purchased — love  alone  is  "  the 
loan  for  love" — that  which  must  be  paid  to  secure  it. 551-2.  Our  at- 
tachment is  yielded  to  your  rent-rolls  (the  income  of  your  rents),  and  not 
to  yourselves. 


134  THE    COMPLAINT. 

Nor  jealous  of  the  chosen  :  fixing,  fix  : 

Judge  before  friendship,  then  confide  till  death.  5*70 

Well  for  thy  friend,  but  nobler  far  for  thee. 

How  gallant  danger  for  earth's  highest  prize  ! 

A  friend  is  worth  all  hazards  we  can  run. 

1  Poor  is  the  friendless  master  of  a  world : 

A  world  in  purchase  for  a  friend  is  gain.'  575 

So  sung  he,  (angels  hear  that  angel  sing ! 
Angels  from  friendship  gather  half  their  joy  !) 
So  sung  Philander,  as  his  friend  went  round 
In  the  rich  ichor,  in  the  gen'rous  blood 
Of  Bacchus,  purple  god  of  joyous  wit,  580 

569.  Jealous  of  the  chosen  :  Suspicious,  or  doubtful,  of  the  friendly  disposi- 
tions of  those  you  choose  as  friends. 

Fixing, fix:  Establishing  your  choice,  do  it  firmly  and  permanently. 

570.  Judge  before  friendship :  Dr.  Thomas  Brown  has  well  observed  that, 
if  we  were  sufficiently  aware  how  great  a  command  over  our  whole  life 
we  give  to  any  one  whom  we  admit  to  our  intimacy ;  how  ready  we  are  to 
adopt  the  errors  of  those  whom  we  love,  and  to  regard  their  very  faults  not 
merely  as  excusable,  but  as  objects  of  imitation,  or  at  least  to  imitate  them 
without  thinking  whether  they  ought  to  be  imitated,  and  without  knowing 
even  that  we  are  imitating  them,  we  should  be  a  little  more  careful  than  we 
usually  are  in  making  a  choice  which  is  to  decide  in  a  great  measure 
whether  we  are  to  be  virtuous  or  vicious,  happy  or  miserable ;  or  which  in 
most  cases,  if  we  still  conlinue  happy,  upon  the  whole  must  often  disturb 
our  happiness,  and,  if  we  still  continue  virtuous,  make  virtue  a  greater 
effort. 

It  is  before  we  yield  ourselves  then  to  the  regard,  that  we  should  strive  to 
estimate  the  object  of  it,  and  to  estimate  his  value,  not  by  the  gratification  of 
a  single  day,  but  by  the  influence  which  he  may  continue  to  exercise  on  our 
Yik.—Philos.  of  Mind,  vol.  iii.  389. 

578.  His  friend  went  round :  The  name  of  his  friend  went  round  at  the 
convivial  table  in  drinking  to  his  health  and  prosperity ;  a  practice  not  to  be 
commended,  being  fraught  with  evils,  as  experience  abundantly  and  most 
sadly  demonstrates. 

579.  Ichor :  Juice  that  flows  in  the  veins  of  the  gods ;  used  by  our  author 
as  synonymous  with  generous  blood,  the  blood  of  Raechus,  who  in  Pagan  my- 
thology was  the  inventor  and  the  god  of  wine,  and  of  all  the  dissipation  re- 
sulting from  its  use.  Under  this  figure  of  ichor  and  blood,  simply  wine  is 
intended. 


KTSHT    II.  135 

A  brow  solute,  and  ever-laughing  eye. 

He  drank  long  health  and  virtue  to  liis  friend ; 

His  Mend !  who  warm'd  him  more,  who  more  inspired ; 

Friendship's  the  wine  of  life ;  but  friendship  new 

(Xot  such  was  his)  is  neither  strong  nor  pure.  585 

0  !  for  the  bright  complexion,  cordial  warmth, 
And  elevating  spirit  of  a  friend, 

For  twenty  summers  ripening  by  my  side  ; 

All  feculence  of  falsehood  long  thrown  down  ; 

All  social  virtues  rising  in  his  soul;  590 

As  crystal  clear,  and  smiling  as  they  rise ! 

Here  nectar  flows  !  it  sparkles  in  our  sight ; 

Kich  to  the  taste,  and  genuine  from  the  heart. 

High-flavour"d  bliss  for  gods!  on  earth  how  rare! 

On  earth  how  lost ! — Philander  is  no  more.  595 

DEPARTED    FRIENDS. 

Think'st  thou  the  theme  intoxicates  my  song  ? 
Am  I  too  warm  ? — Too  warm  I  cannot  be. 

1  loved  him  much,  but  now  I  love  him  more. 
Like  birds,  whose  beauties  languish,  half-conceal'd, 

Till  mounted  on  the  wing,  their  glossy  plumes  600 

Expanded  shine  with  azure,  green,  and  gold; 

581.  Brow  solute  :  a  brow  relaxed  not  careworn. 

5S4.  Friendship's  the  vim  of  life:  A  beautiful  observation,  meaning  that 
friendship  produces  an  exhilarating  and  cheerful  glow  of  feeling,  similar  to 
that  which  is  experienced  from  drinking  the  juice  of  the  grape.  Would  that 
Voting  men,  and  all  others,  would  subscribe  to  the  truth  of  this  obser- 
vation :  and,  instead,  of  using  the  intoxicating  beverage,  employ  as  a 
6afe  and  valuable  substitute,  the  excitement  of  a  virtuous  friendship —  the 
wine  of  life  ! 

The  figure  is  well  carried  out  in  the  following  lines,  running  a  parallel 
between  friendship  and  wine.  When  new.  it  is  neither  strong  nor  pure ;  but 
after  twenty  summers  ripening.  §c. ;  all  feculence  (dregs)  long  thrown  dou-7i  ; 
virtues,  rising — smiling— sparkles — rich  to  the  taste,  fyc. 

592.  Nectar:  The  fabled  drink  of  the  gods;  the  name  is  applied  by  poets 
to  any  peculiarly  delightful  drink. 


186  THE    COMPLAINT. 

How  blessings  brighten  as  they  take  their  flight ; 

His  flight  Philander  took  :  his  upward  flight, 

If  ever  soul  ascended.     Had  he  dropt, 

(That  eagle  genius !)  0  had  he  let  fall  605 

One  feather  as  he  flew,  I  then  had  wrote 

What  friends  might  flatter,  prudent  foes  forbear, 

Rivals  scarce  damn,  and  Zoilus  reprieve. 

Yet  what  I  can  I  must :  it  were  profane 

To  quench  a  glory  lighted  at  the  skies,  610 

And  cast  in  shadows  his  illustrious  close. 

Strange  ;  the  theme  most  affecting,  most  sublime, 

Momentous  most  to  man,  should  sleep  unsung  ! 

And  yet  it  sleeps,  by  genius  unawaked, 

Painim  or  Christian,  to  the  blush  of  wit.  615 

Man's  highest  triumph,  man's  profoundest  fall, 

The  death-bed  of  the  just !  is  yet  undrawn 

By  mortal  hand :  it  merits  a  divine  : 

Angels  should  paint  it,  angels  ever  there  ; 

There,  on  a  post  of  honour  and  of  joy.  620 

DEATH-BED    OF   THE   JUST. 

Dare  I  presume,  then  ?     But  Philander  bids, 
And  glory  tempts,  and  inclination  calls. 
Yet  am  I  struck,  as  struck  the  soul  beneath 
Aerial  groves'  impenetrable  gloom, 
Or  in  some  mighty  ruin's  solemn  shade,  625 

602.  Jls  they  take  their  flight :  We  do  not  fully  appreciate  our  friends  nor 
understand  their  excellencies  till  death  removes  them.  The  comparison 
employed  to  illustrate  this  idea  is  admirable,  Like  birds,  $c. 

608.  Rivals.  &c.  :  Rivals  scarce  condemn  as  a  literary  performance,  and 
Zoilus  reprieve,  or  delay  the  execution  of  the  sentence  of  condemnation 
Zoilus  was  a  sophist  and  grammarian  of  Amphipolis,  who  had  indulged  in 
great  severity  of  criticism  upon  the  poems  of  Homer  and  the  writings  of 
Plato  and  others. 

615.  Painim :  Pagan. 

610.  Ever  there  :  At  the  death-bed  of  the  just. 


NIGHT    II.  13*7 

Or  gazing,  by  pale  lamps,  on  high-born  dust 

In  vaults,  thin  courts  of  poor  unfiatter'd  kings, 

Or  at  the  midnight  altar's  hallow'd  flame. 

It  is  religion  to  proceed :  I  pause — 

And  enter,  awed,  the  temple  of  my  fame.  630 

Is  it  his  death-bed  ?     Xo  ;  it  is  his  shrine : 

Behold  him  there  just  rising  to  a  god. 

The  chamber  where  the  good  man  meets  his  fate 
Is  privileged  beyond  the  common  walk 

Of  virtuous  life,  quite  in  the  verge  of  heav'n.  635 

Fly,  ye  profane  !  if  not,  draw  near  with  awe, 
Receive  the  blessing,  and  adore  the  chance 
That  threw  in  this  Bethesda  your  disease  : 
If  unrestored  by  this,  despair  your  cure  ; 
For  here  resistless  demonstration  dwells  :  640 

A  death-bed's  a  detector  of  the  heart. 
Here  tired  dissimulation  drops  her  mask 
Through  life's  grimace,  that  mistress  of  the  scene  ! 

63-.  Shrine:  A  miniature  temple-  There  is  an  allusion  to  the  Pagan 
idea  of  the  apotheosis  or  deification  of  the  eminently  virtuous  or  distin- 
guished dead.  The  name  god  is  used  here,  however,  not  in  the  Pagan 
sense,  but  in  that  of  angel,  or  glorified  spirit. 

636.  Fly,  ye  profane:  An  imitation  of  the  language  of  the  heathen  priest- 
ess.—Virgil's  JEn.  6  :  25S. 

"  Procnl,  O !  procul  este,  profani, 
Conclamat  vates,  totoque  absistite  luco :" 

638.  This  Bethesda :  See  John  v.  2 — 4.  This  is  the  name  of  a  bath,  or 
reservoir  of  water,  existing  at  Jerusalem  in  the  time  of  our  Saviour,  at 
which  great  cures  were  miraculously  effected.  It  was  hence  called  Bethesda 
(or  house  of  mercy) ,  there  being  five  apartments  erected  around  it  for  the 
accommodation  of  the  sick. 

641.  A  detector  of  the  heart:  As  an  instance  of  this,  on  bis  death-bed,  the 
penitent  Earl  of  Rochester  was  touched  (says  Dr.  Dodd}  with  very  strong 
compunction  for  the  various  indecencies  he  had  diffused  from  his  pen;  and 
was  extremely  solicitous  to  suppress  and  stifle  them,  as  suited  only  to 
serve  the  cause  of  vice  and  profaneness.  He  ingenuously  declared  "  that 
that  absurd  and  foolish  philosophy  which  the  world  had  so  much  admired> 
as  propagated  by  the  late  Mr.  Hobbs  and  others,  had  undone  him,  and  many 
more  of  the  best  parts  in  the  nation." 


f38  THE    COMPLAINT. 

Here  real  and  apparent  are  the  same. 

You  see  the  man,  you  see  his  hold  on  heav'n,  645 

If  sound  his  virtue  ;  as  Philander's  sound. 

Heav'n  waits  not  the  last  moment ;  owns  her  friends 

On  this  side  death,  and  points  them  out  to  men ; 

A  lecture  silent,  but  of  sov'reign  pow'r ! 

To  vice  confusion,  and  to  virtue  peace.  650 

Whatever  farce  the  boastful  hero  plays, 
Virtue  alone  has  majesty  in  death, 
And  greater  still,  the  more  the  tyrant  frowns. 
Philander  !  he  severely  frown'd  on  thee  ; 
'  No  warning  giv'n  !  unceremonious  fate  !  655 

A  sudden  rush  from  life's  meridian  joys ! 
A  wrench  from  all  we  love  !  from  all  we  are ! 
A  restless  bed  of  pain  !  a  plunge  opaque 
Beyond  conjecture  !  feeble  nature's  dread  ! 
Strong  reason's  shudder  at  the  dark  unknown  !  660 

A  sun  extinguish'd  !  a  just  opening  grave  ! 
And,  oh  !  the  last,  last ;  what  ?  (can  words  express, 
Thought  reach  it?)  the  last — silence  of  a  friend!' 
Where  are  those  horrors,  that  amazement  where, 
This  hideous  group  of  ills  (which  singly  shock)  665 

Demands  from  man  ? — I  thought  him  man  till  now. 

Thro'  nature's  wreck,  thro'  vanquish'd  agonies, 
(Like  the  stars  struggling  thro'  this  midnight  gloom) 
What  gleams  of  joy  !  what  more  than  human  peace ! 
Where  the  frail  mortal  ?  the  poor  abject  worm  ?  670 

No,  not  in  death  the  mortal  to  be  found. 
His  conduct  is  a  legacy  for  all, 
Richer  than  Mammon's  for  his  single  heir. 

673.  Mammon :  The  Syriac  name  for  the  god  of  wealth.  It  is  used  in 
Scripture  as  synonymous  with  wealth,  or  riches.  By  a  liberty  granted  to 
poets,  Milton  has  designated  Mammon  as  one  of  the  fallen  angels,  and  has 
pourtrayed  his  character  in  the  most  admirable  manner — 

"  Mammon,  the  least  erected  spirit  that  fell 
From  Heav'n  :  lor  e'en  in  Heaven  his  looks  and  thoughts 
Were  always  downward  bent,  adiniring  more 
The  rici.es  of  Heav'n's  pavement,  trodden  gold, 


NIGHT    II.  139 

His  comforters  he  comforts  ;  great  in  ruin, 

"With  unreluctant  grandeur  gives,  not  yields,  GVo 

His  soul  sublime,  and  closes  with  his  fate. 

How  our  hearts  burnt  within  us  at  the  scene ! 
Whence  this  brave  bound  o'er  limits  fixt  to  man  ? 
His  God  sustains  him  in  his  final  hour  ! 

His  final  hour  brings  glory  to  his  God !  U;-:  ■ 

Man's  glory  Heav'n  vouchsafes  to  call  her  own. 
We  gaze,  we  weep  !  mixt  tears  of  grief  and  joy  ! 
Amazement  strikes !  devotion  bursts  to  flame  ! 
Christians  adore  !  and  infidels  believe. 

As  some  tall  tow'r,  or  lofty  mountain's  brow,  685 

Detains  the  sun  illustrious,  from  its  height, 
While  rising  vapours  and  descending  shades, 
With  damps  and  darkness  drown  the  spacious  vale, 
Undampt  by  doubt,  undarken'd  by  despair, 
Philander  thus  augustly  rears  his  head,  GOO 

At  that  black  hour  which  gen'ral  horror  sheds 
On  the  low  level  of  th'  inglorious  thronrr: 
Sweet  peace,  and  heav'nly  hope,  and  humble  joy, 
Divinely  beam  on  his  exalted  soul ; 

Destruction  gild,  and  crown  him  for  the  skies,  695 

With  incommunicable  lustre  bright. 

Than  aught  divine  or  holy  else  enjoy'd 

In  vision  beatific.    By  him  first 

Man  also,  and  by  his  suggestion  taught, 

liansack'd  the  centre,  and  with  impious  hands 

Rilled  the  bowels  of  their  mother  Earth 

For  treasures  better  hid." 

[Bh.  1.  679— 03a 

677.   Hearts  burnt  within  us  :  An  expression  taken  from  Luke  '24  :  32 
6S6.   From  its  height :  On  account  of  its  height. 

695.  Destruction  gild :  Gild  the  scene  of  destruction — throw  lustre  and 
beauty  upon  death's  destroying  process. 


NIGHT   III. 


NARCISSA. 

Ignoscenda  quidem,  scirent  Bi  ignoscere  manes. — Yikqil. 


^Dsrriliri  fn  jjrr  tan  tjj*  DurjjtM  nf  ^p'nrtlanb. 


From  dreams,  where  thought  in  fancy's  maze  runs  mad, 
To  reason,  that  heav'n-lighted  lamp  in  man, 
Once  more  I  wake  ;  and  at  the  destined  hour, 
Punctual  as  lovers  to  the  moments  sworn, 
I  keep  my  assignation  with  my  woe.  b 

PLEASURES    OF    SELF-COMMUNION. 

O  !  lost  to  virtue,  lost  to  manly  thought, 
Lost  to  the  noble  sallies  of  the  soul ! 
Who  think  it  solitude  to  be  alone. 

Ifarcissa :  See  page  84,  note  on  line  214. 

Night  the  Third — in  ray  opinion  (says  Melmoth)  the  most  elegant  of  the 
collection.     The  parent,  the  poet,  and  the  moralist,  breathe  through  al- 


"Wh-at  could.  I  do'  -what  iuccour  \/h  a ! 

"WitL  pi 


NIGHT    III.  141 

Communion  sweet !  communion  large  and  high  ! 
Our  reason,  guardian  angel,  and  our  God  !  10 

Then  nearest  these,  when  others  most  remote  ; 
And  all,  ere  long,  shall  be  remote  hut  these. 
How  dreadful,  then,  to  meet  them  all  alone, 
ranger  !  unacknowledged  !  unapproved  ! 
Now  woo  them,  wed  them,  bind  them  to  thy  breast ;  15 

To  win  thy  wish,  creation  has  no  more. 

Or  if  we  wish  a  fourth,  it  is  a  friend. 

But  friends,  how  mortal !  dangerous  the  desire. 

CYNTHIA    PREFERRED    PO    PHCEBUS. 

Take  Phoebus  to  yourselves,  ye  basking  bards  ! 

most  every  part  of  it.  It  is  entitled  Narcissa,  and  very  pathetically  dis- 
covers the  writer's  love  and  fondness  for  his  daughter — a  daughter  whom 
he  lost  in  the  bloom  of  life  and  in  the  bridal  hom\  No  wonder,  therefore, 
that  he  writes  from  the  heart  on  such  an  occasion.     As  he  says  himself, 

"  Who  not  inflamed,  when  what  he  speaks  he  feels, 
And  in  the  nerve  most  tender,  in  his  friends  f 

6-7.  A  fine  apostrophe  and  climax.  The  repeating  of  the  word  lost  also 
gives  great  impressiveness  to  the  thought. 

10.  Guardian  angel :  It  was  a  favorite  opinion  of  the  Christian  Fathers 
(and  here  evidently  alluded  to  by  Dr.  Young)  that  every  individual  is  un- 
der the  care  of  a  particular  angel,  who  is  assigned  to  him  as  a  guardian. 
The  author  (Night  YII.  1366)  again  introduces  this  idea  : 

"  Poor  wretch  1  thy  guardian  angel  weeps  1" 

The  note  there  given  may  be  consulted,  in  further  explanation  of  opin- 
ion upon  this  subject. 

19.  Phozbus  :  A  Roman  name  applied  to  the  god  Apollo,  also  to  the  sun. 
In  the  age  of  Homer  he  Avas  celebrated  as  the  god  of  archery,  prophecy, 
and  music  ;  by  later  poets  he  was  also  honored  as  the  god  of  day  and  of 
the  sun. 

In  the  text  the  term  Phoebus  is  used  only  of  the  physical  luminary,  which 
has  an  advantage  above  the  term  sun  from  the  elegant  associations  which  it 


142  THE    COMPLAINT. 

Inebriate  at  fair  Fortune's  fountain-head  ;  20 

And  reeling  through  the  wilderness  of  joy, 

Where  sense  runs  savage,  broke  from  reason's  chain, 

And  sings  false  peace,  till  smother'd  by  the  pall. 

My  fortune  is  unlike,  unlike  my  song, 

Unlike  the  deity  my  song  invokes.  25 

I  to  Day's  soft-eyed  sister  pay  my  court, 

(Endymion's  rival)  and  her  aid  implore  ; 

Now  first  implored  in  succour  to  the  muse. 

Thou,  who  didst  lately  borrow  Cynthia's  form, 

awakens  in  the  mind  of  the  classical  student,  and  in  other  minds  when  those 
associations  are  made  known  to  them. 

Ye  basking  bards :  Ye  hards  lying  at  ease  under  his  luxurious  influence. 

26.  Dayh  soft-eyed  sister,  &c.  :  Our  author,  somewhat  after  Pagan  fashion, 
pays  his  poetic  homage  to  the  Moon,  described  here  by  this  most  beautiful 
and  original  expression.  He  represents  himself  as  Endymion's  rival  in  his 
attachment  to  this  soft-tyed  divinity,  for  as  such  he  speaks  of  her.  Fabu- 
lous history  informs  us  lhat  Endymion,  the  founder  of  the  city  of  Elis,  in 
Greece,  gained  the  affections  of  Selene,  or  the  Moon,  who  bore  him  fifty 
daughters,  the  rest  of  the  story  is  not  needful  for  the  illustration  of  our 
author. 

29.  Cynthia1  s  form :  The  Duchess  of  Portland,  to  whom  this  "Night"  is 
dedicated,  is  said  at  the  Duke  of  Norfolk's  masquerade  to  have  assumed  the 
dress  or  appearance  ascribed  in  fable  to  the  goddess  Cynthia  or  Diana — the 
goddess  of  the  night — the  goddess  of  the  Moon.  This  godJess  was  described 
besides  under  the  names  of  Cyllcnc,  Phabe,  (45,)  Selene,  Delia,  Hecate,  &c. 
As  goddess  of  the  moon,  Cynthia,  or  Diana,  was  represented,  by  the  artists. 
in  long  robes,  with  a  long,  starred  veil,  having  a  torch  in  her  hand,  and  a 
crescent  on  her  head.  As  in  Apollo  the  sun  was  deified  and  adored,  so  was 
the  moon  in  Diana.  She  was  also  recognized  as  the  goddess  of  hunting  or  the 
chase,  of  which  in  her  youth  she  was  passionately  fond.  Under  this  character 
she  received  from  Jupiter  a  bow  with  arrows,  and  a  train  oi  sixty  nymphs. 
He  granted  her  petition  also  to  be  permitted  to  live  a  virgin,  and  she 
was,  therefore,  the  goddess  of  chastity.  Yet  some  accounts  represent  her  as 
having  given  her  affections  to  Endymion  (note  26) .  At  Ephesus  was  built 
a  most  magnificent  temple  in  honor  of  this  goddess,  and  in  that  place  it 
would  seem  from  Acts  J  9  :  24 — 35,  lhat  she  was  the  prominent  object  of 
Pagan  worship.  The  dimensions  of  her  temple  were  425  feet  by  220.  It 
was  adorned  with  127  marble  pillars,  60  feet  in  height,  and  with  a  splendid 
image  of  the  goddess.  It  was  one  of  the  seven  wonders  of  the  world.  The 
Colossus,  referred  to  in  a  former  note,  was  another  of  those  wonders.     For 


mi. in    in.  Ho 

And  modestly  forego  thine  own  !  0  thou,  30 

Who  didst  thyself,  at  midnight  hours,  inspire ! 
Say,  why  not  Cynthia,  patroness  of  song  ? 
As  thou  her  crescent,  she  thy  character      ' 
Assumes,  still  more  a  goddess  by  the  change. 

Are  there  demurring  wits,  who  dare  dispute  35 

This  revolution  in  the  world  inspired  ? 
Ye  train  Pierian !  to  the  lunar  sphere, 
In  silent  hour,  address  your  ardent  call 
For  aid  immortal,  less  her  brother's  right. 
She  with  the  spheres  harmonious  nightly  leads  40 

The  mazy  dance,  and  hears  their  matchless  strain  ; 
A  strain  for  gods,  denied  to  mortal  ear. 
Transmit  it  heard,  thou  silver  queen  of  heav'n  ! 
What  title  or  what  name  endears  thee  most  ? 
Cynthia  !  Cyllene  !  Phcebe  ! — or  dost  hear  45 

With  higher  gust,  fair  Port  land  of  the  skies  ? 

a  more  full  account,  Fiske's  Manual  of  Classical  Literature  may  be  con- 
sulted. 

37.  Ye  train  Pierian  :  By  this  name  (derived  from  Pieria,  sacred  to  them) 
are  designated  the  nine  3Iuscs,  those  nymphs  or  subordinate  deities  to  whose 
guardianship  were  assigned  particular  branches  of  knowledge  and  the  fine 
arts,  particularly  music  and  song :  hence  our  author  appropriately  directs 
them,  in  requiring  aid,  to  call  upon  the  lunar  sphere,  the  moon — in  the  fol- 
lowing lines,  described  as  the  silver  queen  of  heaven,  as  leading  the  mazy 
dance  with  the  harmonious  spheres  of  night,  and  hearing  their  matrhlcss  strain. 

Here  is  an  allusion  to  the  Platonic  doctrine  of  the  "music  of  the  spheres" 
— the  music  produced  by  their  harmonious  revolution,  too  delicate  to  be 
caught  by  human  ear,  but  easily  appreciated  and  highly  relished  by  the 
celestials.  Shakspeare,  in  his  Merchant  of  Venice,  (Act  V.,  Scene  1,)  thus 
happily  describes  it — 

"  There"s  not  the  smallest  orb  which  thou  bchold'st 
But  in  his  motion  like  an  angel  sings, 
Still  quiring  to  the  yonng-ey'd  Cherubim  : 
Such  harmony  is  in  immortal  sounds  I 
But  whilst  this  muddy  vesture  of  decay 
Doth  grossly  close  us  in,  we  cannot  hear  it," 

39.  Her  brother's  right :  The  right  of  Phoebus,  or  the  Sun. 
46.  Fair  Portland,  &c.  :  A  fulsome  compliment  to  the  lady  to  whom  this 
'  Night"  is  addressed. 


144  THE    COMPLAINT. 

Is  that  the  soft  enchantment  calls  thee  down, 

More  pow'rful  than  of  old  Circean  charm  ? 

Come,  but  from  heav'nly  banquets  with  thee  bring 

The  soul  of  song,  and  whisper  in  mine  ear  50 

The  theft  divine ;  or  in  propitious  dreams 

(For  dreams  are  thine)  transfuse  it  thro'  the  breast 

Of  thy  first  votary — but  not  thy  last, 

If,  like  thy  namesake,  thou  art  ever  kind. 

DEATH    OF    NARCISSA. 

And  kind  thou  wilt  be,  kind  on  such  a  theme ;  55 

A  theme  so  like  thee,  a  quite  lunar  theme, 
Soft,  modest,  melancholy,  female,  fair ! 
A  theme  that  rose  all  pale,  and  told  my  soul 
'Twas  night ;  on  her  fond  hopes  perpetual  night ; 
A  night  which  struck  a  damp,  a  deadlier  damp  60 

Than  that  which  smote  me  from  Philander's  tomb. 
Narcissa  follows  ere  his  tomb  is  closed. 
Woes  cluster  ;  rare  are  solitary  woes  ; 
They  love  a  train  ;  they  tread  each  other's  heel ; 
Her  death  invades  his  mournful  right,  and  claims  G5 

The  grief  that  started  from  my  lids  for  him ; 
Seizes  the  faithless  alienated  tear, 
Or  shares  it  ere  it  falls.     So  frequent  death, 

48.  Circean  charm :  Circe,  according  to  Homer,  was  one  of  the  ocean 
nymphs  who  dwelt  upon  an  island,  attended  by  four  other  nymphs.  Those 
persons  who  visited  her  dwelling  were  luxuriously  entertained  with  food,  and 
then  on  tasting  a  magic  cup  which  she  presented,  were  changed  at  once  into 
swine.     Milton  in  his  Comus  thus  introduces  the  fable — 

"  Of  Bacchus  and  of  Circe  born,  great  Comus, 
Deep  skilled  in  all  his  mother's  witcheries, 
And  here  to  every  thirsty  wanderer 
By  sly  enticement  gives  his  baneful  cup, 
With  many  murmurs  mixed,  whoso  pleasing  poison 
The  visage  quite  transforms  of  him  that  drinks, 
And  the  inglorious  likeness  of  a  beast 
Fixes  instead,  unmoulding  reason's  miutago 
Character'd  in  the  face." 

b.*).   Hit  mournful  right  •   His  right  to  my  grief,  to  my  grieving  lor  hhr.. 


NIGHT    III.  1  1  5 

Sorrow  he  more  than  causes ;  he  confounds  ; 

For  human  sighs  his  rival  strokes  contend,  70 

And  make  distress  distraction.     O  Philander  ! 

What  was  thy  fate  ?  a  double  fate  to  me ; 

Portent  and  pain  !  a  menace  and  a  blow  ! 

Like  the  black  raven  hov'ring  o'er  my  peace, 

Not  less  a  bird  of  omen  than  of  prey.  7 

It  call'd  Narcissa  long  before  her  hour : 

It  call'd  her  tender  soul  by  break  of  bliss, 

From  the  first  blossom,  from  the  buds  of  joy  ; 

Those  few  our  noxious  fate  unblasted  leaves 

In  this  inclement  clime  of  human  life.  80 

Sweet  Harmonist !  and  beautiful  as  sweet ! 
And  young  as  beautiful !  and  soft  as  young  ! 

73.  Portent  and  pain :  Betokening,  as  well  as  inflicting  sorrow. 

75.  Bird  of  omen:  An  allusion  to  the  ancient  Roman  practice  of  pretend- 
ing to  foretell  the  future  by  observing  the  flight  of  such  birds  as  the  eagle 
and  vulture,  and  the  chattering  and  singing  of  others,  as  the  owl,  the 
crow  (or  raven),  and  the  cock. 

The  raven,  strikingly  sagacious  and  venerable  in  its  appearance  (we  use 
the  words  of  Mrs.  Ellis),  is  still  believed  by  the  superstitious  to  be  a  bird 
of  ill  omen ;  and  much  as  we  may  be  disposed  to  despise  such  prognostica- 
tions as  the  flight  or  the  cry  of  different  birds,  there  is  something  in  the 
habits,  but  especially  in  the  voice  of  the  raven  which  gives  it  a  strange  and 
almost  fearful  character.  It  seems  to  hold  no  communion  with  the  joyous 
spirits,  to  have  no  association  with  the  happy  scenes  of  earth,  but  leads  a 
lengthened  and  unsocial  life  amongst  the  gloomy  shades  of  the  venerable 
forest,  in  the  deep  recesses  of  the  pathless  mountain,  or  on  the  rocky  sum- 
mit of  the  beetling  crag  that  overlooks  the  oceairs  blue  abyss:  and  when  it 
th,  with  its  sable  pinions  spread  like  the  wings  of  a  dark  angel  upon 
the  wind,  its  hoarse  and  hollow  croak  echoes  from  rock  to  rock,  as  if  telling, 
in  those  dreary  and  appalling  tones,  of  the  fleshy  feast  to  which  it  is  hasten- 
ing, of  the  death-pangs  of  the  mountain  deer,  of  the  cry  of  the  perishing  kid. 
and  of  the  bones  of  the  shipwrecked  seaman  whitening  in  the  surge. 

77.  By  break  of  bliss :  A  phrase  of  the  same  kind  as  break  of  day,  and 
means,  when  her  conjugal  happiness  was  just  commencing;  in  her  bridal 
hour  (loO) 

81.  Sweet  Harmonist :  Or  musician.  The  arrangement  of  the  epithets  ap- 
plied to  Narcissa  (81 — 84)  constitutes  a  beautiful  climax,  and,  except  in  the 
,ast  of  these  lines,  well   sustained.     She  is  there  compared   to  a   bird  (hS) 


140  THE    COMPLAINT. 

And  gay  as  soft !  and  innocent  as  gay ! 

And  happy  (if  aught  happy  here)  as  good ! 

For  fortune  fond  had  built  her  nest  on  high.  85 

Like  birds,  quite  exquisite  of  note  and  plume, 

Transfix'd  by  fate,  (who  loves  a  lofty  mark,) 

How  from  the  summit  of  the  grove  she  fell, 

And  left  it  unharmonious !  all  its  charm 

Extinguish' d  in  the  wonders  of  her  song;  90 

Her  song  still  vibrates  in  my  ravish'd  ear, 

Still  melting  there,  and  with  voluptuous  pain 

(0  to  forget  her !)  thrilling  through  my  heart ! 

Song,  beauty,  youth,  love,  virtue,  joy  !  this  group 
Of  bright  ideas,  flow'rs  of  paradise,  9r 

As  yet  unforfeit !  in  one  blaze  we  bind, 
Kneel,  and  present  it  to  the  skies,  as  all 
"We  guess  of  heav'n  ;  and  these  "were  all  her  own ; 
And  she  was  mine ;  and  I  was — was — most  blest — 
Gay  title  of  the  deepest  misery  !  100 

As  bodies  grow  more  pond'rous  robb'd  of  life, 
Good  lost  weighs  more  in  grief  than  gain'd  in  joy. 
Like  blossom'd  trees  o'erturn'd  by  vernal  storm, 
Lovely  in  death  the  beauteous  ruin  lay ; 

And  if  in  death  still  lovely,  lovelier  there,  105 

Far  lovelier  !     Pity  swells  the  tide  of  love. 
And  wrill  not  the  severe  excuse  a  sigh  ? 
Scorn  the  proud  man  that  is  ashamed  to  weep  ; 
Our  tears  indulged,  indeed  deserve  our  shame. 

transfixed  by  fate  (death) ,  and  falling  from  the  summit  of  the  grave  that 
she  had  enchanted  with  the  witchery  of  her  song. 

96.  As  yet  unforfeit :  Before  it  was  forfeited  by  the  sin  of  Adam  and  Eve. 

100.  Gay  title,  &c.  :  An  expression  of  felicity  that  has  become  indicative 
of  the  deepest  misery  ;  his  misery,  now,  resulted  from  the  exquisite  happi- 
ness he  had  derived  from  her  varied  endowments  while  she  lived. 

102.  Than  gain'd,  &c.  :  Than  good  which  is  gained  weighs  in  joy.  The 
contrasted  ideas  are,  good  lost — good  gained  ;  in  grief — in  joy. 

105.  There :  In  the  skies  (97). 

109-110.   Our  tears  indulged,  &c.  :  Our  tears  indulged  to  excess,  under  or- 


NIGUT    III.  11? 

Ye  that  e'er  lost  an  angel,  pity  me  !  110 

Soon  as  the  lustre  languish'd  in  her  eye, 
Dawning  a  dimmer  day  on  human  sight, 
And  on  her  cheek,  the  residence  of  spring, 
Pale  omen  sat,  and  scatter'd  fears  around 
On  all  that  saw  (and  who  could  cease  to  gaze  115 

That  once  had  seen  ?)  with  haste,  parental  haste, 
I  flew,  I  snatch'd  her  from  the  rigid  north, 
Her  native  bed,  on  which  bleak  Boreas  blew, 
And  bore  her  nearer  to  the  sun  :  the  sun 
(As  if  the  sun  could  envy)  cheek'd  his  beam,  120 

Denied  his  wonted  succour  ;  nor  with  more 
Regret  beheld  her  drooping  than  the  bells 
Of  lilies  ;  fairest  lilies,  not  so  fair ! 

Queen  lilies  !  and  ye  painted  populace ! 
Who  dwell  in  fields,  and  lead  ambrosial  fives  !  125 

In  morn  and  evening  dew  your  beauties  bathe, 
And  drink  the  sun  which  gives  your  cheeks  to  glow, 
And  out-blush  (mine  excepted)  ev'ry  fair  ; 
You  gladlier  grew,  ambitious  of  her  hand, 
Which  often  cropt  your  odours,  incense  meet  130 

To  thought  so  pure.     Ye  lovely  fugitives  ! 
Coeval  race  with  man  ;  for  man  you  smile ; 
Why  not  smile  at  him  too  ?     You  share,  indeed, 

dinary  bereavements,  indeed  deserve  our  shame ;  but  I  have  lost  an  angel, 
a  friend  above  the  standard  of  ordinary  mortals. 

The  chief  fault  of  this  part  of  the  poem  is  the  extravagance  of  the  eulo- 
gium  bestowed  on  Narcissa;  its  disproportion  to  the  merits  of  every  human 
being.  For  example,  (111-12)  as  her  eye  was  becoming  dimmed  in  death,  it 
caused  a  sensible  diminution  of  the  light  of  day  ;  when  borne  southward  lh° 
sun,  as  if  in  envy  of  her  lustre,  checked  his  beam  (120)  &c. 

118.  Boreas  :  The  north  wind. 

119.  Nearer  to  the  sun:  Southward,  where  the  sun  pours  down  a  warmer 
day,  and  consequently  seems  nearer. 

122-3.  Bells  of  lilies  :  Their  shape  resembles  that  of  a  bell. 

124.  Yc  painted  populace,  &c.  :  A  personification  of  the  flowers. 

125.  Ambrosial;  pleasant. 
128    Mine:  Mv  fair  friend. 


148  THE    COMPLAIN  I. 

His  sudden  pass,  but  not  his  constant  pain. 

So  man  is  made  ;  nought  ministers  delight,  135 

But  what  his  glowing  passions  can  engage  ; 
And  glowing  passions,  bent  on  aught  below, 
Must,  soon  or  late,  with  anguish  turn  the  scale ; 
And  anguish  after  rapture,  how  severe  ! 

Rapture  !  bold  man  !  who  tempts  the  wrath  divine,  1 40 

By  plucking  fruit  denied  to  mortal  taste, 
"Whilst  here,  presuming  on  the  rights  of  Heav'n. 
For  transport  dost  thou  call  on  ev'ry  hour, 
Lorenzo  ?     At  thy  friend's  expense  be-  wise  : 
Lean  not  on  earth  ;  'twill  pierce  thee  to  the  heart;  145 

A  broken  reed  at  best ;  but  oft  a  spear  : 
On  its  sharp  point  peace  bleeds,  and  hope  expires. 

THE    BURIAL    OF    NARCISSA. 

Turn,  hopeless  thought !  turn  from  her  ; — Thought  repell'd 
Resenting  rallies,  and  wakes  ev'ry  wo. 

Snatch'd  ere  thy  prime  !  and  in  thy  bridal  hour  !  150 

And  when  kind  fortune,  with  thy  lover,  smiled  ! 
And  when  high-flavour'd  thy  fresh  op'ning  joys  ! 
And  when  blind  man  pronounced  thy  bliss  complete ! 
And  on  a  foreign  shore,  where  strangers  wept ! 
Strangers  to  thee,  and,  more  surprising  still,  155 

Strangers  to  kindness,  wept.     Their  eyes  let  fall 
Inhuman  tears!  strange  tears  !  that  trickled  down 
From  marble  hearts  !  obdurate  tenderness  ! 
A  tenderness  that  call'd  them  more  severe, 
In  spite  of  nature's  soft  persuasion  steel'd  ;  100 

While  nature  melted,  superstition  raved ! 
That  mourn'd  the  dead,  and  this  denied  a  grave. 

134.  Sudden  pass:  Sudden  passage — departure. 

157-8.  Inhuman  tears  :  So  called  because  tbey  -were  the  outgush  of  ob- 
durate, marble  hearts ;  rendered  so  by  that  baleful  superstition  which 
taught  them  to  deny  to  Protestants  a  decent  burial. 

162.  That  mourn'd,  <kc. :  Nature  mourned  Narcissa,  while  superstition  do- 


NIGH1    III.  •        149 

Their  sighs  incensed ;  sighs  foreign  to  the  will ! 
Their  will  the  tiger  suck'd,  outraged  the  storm  : 
For  oh  !  the  cursed  ungodliness  of  zeal!  165 

While  sinful  flesh  relented,  spirit  nursed 
In  blind  infallibility's  embrace, 
The  sainted  spirit  petrified  the  breast, 
Denied  the  charity  of  dust  to  spread 

nied  a  grave.  In  spite  of  the  influence  of  Roman  Catholic  prejudice  against 
the  accomplished  woman,  and  of  the  superstition  which  repelled  them  from 
manifesting  towards  her  remains  the  offices  of  a  respectful  burial,  nature 
within  them  forced  the  tears  of  sorrow.  She  died  at  Lyons,  in  France, 
whither  Dr.  Young  had  taken  her  for  the  recovery  of  her  health,  and  as  she 
was  a  Protestant,  he  was  obliged  to  bury  her,  very  privately  too,  in  a  com- 
mon field,  under  cover  of  the  darkness  of  night,  having  been  refused  the  pri- 
vilege of  interring  her  in  the  church-yard  which  was  under  the  control  of 
Popish  superstition, 
He  says  accordingly, 

"  With  pious  sacrilege  a  grave  I  stole,  &c." — 172-1SS 

163.  Incensed:  Incensed  me. 

164.  Their  will  the  tiger  suck'd :  Was  nursed  by  the  tiger,  or,  without  a 
figure,  was  fierce. 

165.  The  cursed  ungodliness  of  zeal :  The  Roman  ritual,  used  even  at  the 
present  time,  declares  that  schismatics  and  heretics  are  to  be  excluded  from 
Christian  burial.  This  exclusion  extends  to  all  who  doubt  any  doctrine  oi 
precept  of  the  Romish  church ;  no  other  form  of  Christian  burial  is  permit 
ted,  and  this  prohibition  is  regarded  as  a  mark  of  reprobation. 

A  letter  from  Caraccas,  in  Spanish  South  America,  dated  in  November, 
1825,  mentions  that  a  young  Englishman  died  in  the  preceding  month,  and 
was  buried  in  the  church-yard  with  the  customary  Romish  ceremonies,  his 
friends  having  represented  him  to  be  a  Roman  Catholic,  that  they  might  not 
be  obliged  to  witness  his  burial  in  a  ditch,  or  some  such  place.  But  the 
real  fact  that  he  was  a  Protestant  becoming  known,  the  body  was  dug  up, 
and  found  naked  and  mutilated  in  the  church-yard !  The  government,  how- 
ever, interfered,  and  having  shaken  off  some  of  their  Romish  prejudices,  the 
body  was  again  interred,  and  a  piece  of  ground  was  ordered  to  be  allotted  to 
the  English  for  their  use  as  a  burial-place. — Days  of  Queen  3fary,jj.  215. 

168.  The  sainted  spirit:  Spoken  ironically.  It  was  claimed  to  be  a  sainted 
spirit;  but  not  so  regarded  by  our  author.  He  says  it  petrified  the  heart, 
turned  it  into  stone,  destroyed  the  tender  feelings — of  course  was  nrf-  entitled 
to  be  seriously  called  a  sainted  or  holy  spirit.  He  had  also  referred  to  it 
(165)  as  the  cursed  ungodliness  of  zeal. 


150  THE    COMPLAINT. 

O'er  dust !  a  charity  their  clogs  enjoy.  170 

What  could  I  do  ?  what  succour  ?  what  resource  ? 

With  pious  sacrilege  a  grave  I  stole ; 

With  impious  piety  that  grave  I  wrong'd  : 

Short  in  my  duty,  coward  in  my  grief ! 

More  like  her  murderer  than  friend,  I  crept  175 

With  soft  suspended  step,  and  muffled  deep 

In  midnight  darkness,  whisper'd  my  last  sigh. 

I  whisper'd  what  should  echo  through  their  realms : 

Nor  writ  her  name,  whose  tomb  should  pierce  the  skies. 

Presumptuous  fear  !  how  durst  I  dread  her  foes,  180 

While  nature's  loudest  dictates  I  obey'd  ? 

Pardon  necessity,  blest  shade  !  of  grief 

And  indignation  rival  bursts  I  pour'd  ; 

Half  execration  mingled  with  my  prayer ; 

Kindled  at  man,  while  I  his  God  adored :  1 85 

Sore  grudg'd  the  savage  land  her  sacred  dust ; 

Stamp'd  the  cursed  soil ;  and  with  humanity 

(Denied  Narcissa)  wish'd  them  all  a  grave. 

Glows  my  resentment  into  guilt  ?  what  guilt 
Can  equal  violations  of  the  dead  ?  190 

The  dead  how  sacred  !  sacred  is  the  dust 
Of  this  heav'n-labour'd  form,  erect,  divine  ! 
This  heav'n-assumed,  majestic,  robe  of  earth 
He  deign'd  to  wear,  who  hung  the  vast  expanse 
With  azure  bright,  and  clothed  the  sun  in  gold.  195 

When  ev'ry  passion  sleeps  that  can  offend  ; 
When  strikes  us  ev'ry  motive  that  can  melt ; 
When  man  can  wreak  his  rancour  uncontroll'd, 
That  strongest  curb  on  insult  and  ill-will ; 

188.  Wish'd  them  all  a  grave :  That  is,  a  decent  burial,  which  had  been 
denied  to  Narcissa.  His  humane  wish  could  not  have  been  entirely  free 
irom  a  mixture  of  malevolence,  as  indicated  by  his  stamping  the  cursed  soil. 

194.  He  deign'd  to  n-ear  :  Referring  to  the  Son  of  God,  who  became  incar- 
nate ;  hence  the  human  form  is  by  the  author  called  this  heaven-assumed  robe 
of  earth.  It  was  assumed  by  the  Son  of  God,  who  not  only  had  come  Irom 
heaven  but  was  heaven's  kin"'. 


NIGHT    III.  151 

Then,  spleen  to  dust !  the  dust  of  innocence,  200 

An  angel's  dust !     This  Lucifer  transcends ; 
When  he  contended  for  the  Patriarch's  bones, 
'Twas  not  the  strife  of  malice,  but  of  pride ; 
The  strife  of  pontiff  pride,  not  pontiff  gall. 

MAN,   TO    MAN    THE    SOREST   ILL. 

Far  less  than  this  is  shocking  in  a  race  205 

Most  wretched,  but  from  streams  of  mutual  love, 
And  uncreated,  but  for  love  divine  ; 
And,  but  for  love  divine,  this  moment  lost, 
By  fate  resorb'd,  and  sunk  in  endless  night. 

200.  Spleen  to  dust :  Ill-nature  and  spite  shown  to  Narcissa's  body  in 
being  refused,  with  rage,  a  place  in  the  Catholic  church-yard. 

201.  Lucifer :  A  name  by  which  the  devil  or  Satan  is  represented.  The 
patriarch  next  spoken  of  is  Moses,  and  the  event  alluded  to  is  recorded  in 
the  Epistle  of  Jude,  v.  9.  The  inspired  writer  refers,  as  is  thought,  to  a 
tradition  prevalent  among  the  Jews,  and  which  he  sanctions  as  containing 
an  important  truth,  and  one  which  related  to  the  subject  he  was  discussing. 
The  contention  was  probably  a  contention  of  words,  a  dispute  of  some  kind 
in  relation  to  the  body  of  Moses  (from  the  Greek  term  used  to  express  it), 
and  did  not  relate  to  a  contest  of  strength  about  the  burial  of  Moses,  as  some 
have  thought,  and  as  our  author  views  the  matter  in  these  lines.  Jude  is  not 
responsible  (as  Mr.  Barnes  in  his  Notes  remarks),  for  the  opinion  that  tlje 
subject  of  dispute  was  about  the  burying  of  the  body  of  Moses  ;  that  Michael 
sought  to  bury  it,  and  the  devil  endeavored  to  prevent  it — the  one  in  order 
that  it  might  not  be  worshipped  by  the  Israelites,  and  the  other  that  it  might 
be.  All  that  Jude  says  is,  that  there  was  a  dispute  respecting  the  body  cf 
Moses. 

206.  But  from,  &c.  :  Except  from,  &c.  :  That  is,  had  not  streams  of  mu- 
tual love  prevented  from  being  most  wretched.  But  for,  fyc,  woidd  have 
been  a  better  reading,  and  then  would  correspond  with  the  phraseology  in 
the  next  line : — and  uncreated,  but  for  love  divine,  that  is,  would  not  even  have 
been  created  had  not  divine  love  achieved  the  work ;  and,  except  for  the  in- 
terposition of  the  same  love,  would  this  moment  (be)  lost.  These  things  are 
mentioned  to  show  the  gross  impropriety,  and  indecency,  and  criminality  of 
the  acts  of  hatred  and  violence  perpetrated  by  the  members  of  this  race 
upon  each  other. 

209.  Resorb'd :  Swallowed  up. 


152  THE    COMPLAINT. 

Man  hard  of  heart  to  man !  of  horrid  things  2J0 

Most  horrid  !  'mid  stupendous,  highly  strange  ! 

Yet  oft  his  courtesies  are  smoother  wrongs  ; 

Pride  brandishes  the  favours  he  confers, 

And  contumelious  his  humanity  : 

What  then  his  vengeance  ?     Hear  it  not,  ye  stars  !  215 

And  thou,  pale  moon  !  turn  paler  at  the  sound ; 

Man  is  to  man  the  sorest,  surest  ill. 

A  previous  blast  foretells  the  rising  storm  ; 

O'erwhelming  turrets  threaten  ere  they  fall ; 

Volcanoes  bellow  ere  they  disembogue  ;  220 

Earth  trembles  ere  her  yawning  jaws  devour  ; 

And  smoke  betrays  the  wide-consuming  fire  : 

Ruin  from  man  is  most  conceal'd  when  near, 

And  sends  the  dreadful  tidings  in  the  blow. 

Is  this  the  flight  of  fancy  ?  would  it  were  !  225 

Heav'n's  Sovereign  saves  all  beings  but  himself 

That  hideous  sight,  a  naked  human  heart. 

Fired  is  the  muse  ?  and  let  the  muse  be  fired  : 
Who  not  inflamed,  when  what  he  speaks  he  feels, 
And  in  the  nerve  most  tender,  in  his  friends  ?  230 

Shame  to  mankind  !  Philander  had  his  foes  ; 
He  felt  the  truths  I  sing,  and  I  in  him  : 
„      But  he  nor  I  feel  more.     Past  ills,  Narcissa ! 
Are  sunk  in  thee,  thou  recent  wound  of  heart ! 
Which  bleeds  with  other  cares,  with  other  pangs  ;  235 

Pangs  num'rous  as  the  num'rous  ills  that  swarm'd 
O'er  thy  distinguish'd  fate,  and  clust'ring  there, 
Thick  as  the  locust  on  the  land  of  Nile, 

220.  Disembogue:  Pour  forth  their  con lents. 

233.  But  he  nor  I,  &c. :  But  neither  he  nor  I  feel  them  any  longer  in  con- 
sequence of  more  aggravated  wrong  done  to  Narcissa. 

234.  Wound  of  heart :  The  effect  is  here  put  for  the  cause  or  occasion. 
The  expression  means,  author,  or  occasion,  of  the  recent  wound  of  heart;  this 
was  inflicted  hy  the  numerous  ills  that  swarmed  over  her  distinguished  fate 
(237),  and,  as  the  author  most  beautifully  expresses  the  thought,  made  death 

more  deadly,  and  more  dark  the  grave. 


xight  nr.  153 

Made  death  more  deadly,  and  more  dark  the  grave, 

Reflect  (if  riot  forgot  my  touching  tale)  240 

How  was  each  circumstance  with  aspics  arm'd  ? 

An  aspic  each,  and  all  an  hydra  wo. 

What  strong  Herculean  virtue  could  suffice  ? — 

Or  is  it  virtue  to  be  conquer'd  here  ? 

This  hoary  cheek  a  train  of  tears  bedews,  245 

And  each  tear  mourns  its  own  distinct  distress  ; 

And  each  distress,  distinctly  mourn'd,  demands 

Of  grief  still  more,  as  heighten'd  by  the  whole. 

A  grief  like  tins  proprietors  excludes  ! 

Not  friends  alone  such  obsequies  deplore ;  250 

They  make  mankind  the  mourner  ;  cany  sighs 

Far  as  the  fatal  Fame  can  wing  her  way, 

And  turn  the  gayest  thought  of  gayest  age 

Down  the  right  channel,  through  the  vale  of  death. 

241.  Aspics:  Asps — a  small  but  exceedingly  poisonous  serpent  found  in 
Egypt,  the  bite  of  which  is  said  to  produce  a  speedy  death  without  pain. 

242.  All  an  hydra  ico :  A  wo  that  multiples  itself  like  the  heads  of  the 
fabled  serpentine  monster  in  the  marsh  of  Lerna.  It  is  represented  as  hav- 
ing had  many  heads,  and  as  soon  as  one  was  cut  off  by  any  hostile  hand  it 
was  supplied  by  another  that  started  up,  unless  the  wound  was  stopped  by 
fire.  By  the  virtue  (that  is.  the  valor)  of  the  god  Hercules  (243)  Ibis  mon- 
ster was  killed,  upon  the  application  of  firebrands  to  the  wounds  as  the 
heads  were  cut  off.  Hence  the  term  hydra,  by  a  figure  of  speech,  has  come 
to  signify  any  manifold  evil. 

252.  Fatal  Fame:  Allusion  seems  here  to  be  made  to  the  heathen  goddess 
Fame,  who  was  regarded  as  the  author  and  spreader  of  reports,  not  only  bad 
but  good.  The  epithet  fatal  is  not  easily  interpreted.  It  may  have  here 
been  applied  to  the  goddess  from  the  melancholy  subject  of  the  report  which 
she  bore  concerning  the  death  and  burial  of  Narcissa.  Whoever  has  read 
the  JEneid  of  Virgil  must  have  admired  the  personification  of  Fame,  or 
Rumour,  which  is  found  in  Book  IV.  173 — 100. 

"  Extemplo  Libya;  mannas  it  Fama  per  urbes ; 
Fama  malum  quo  non  aliud  velocius  ullum : 
Mobilitate  viget,  vircsquc  acquirit  euudo. 
Parva  metu  prhno ;  mox  se  attollit  in  auras, 
Ingrediturque  solo,  et  caput  inter  nubila  condit 
111am,"  &c. 

1* 


154  THE  COMPLAINT. 


THE  VALE  OF  DEATH. 

The  vale  of  death  !  that  hush'd  Cimmerian  vale,  255 

Where  darkness  brooding  o'er  unfinish'd  fates, 
With  raven  wing  incumbent,  waits  the  day. 
(Dread  day  !)  that  interdicts  all  future  change ! 
That  subterranean  world,  that  land  of  ruin  ! 
Fit  walk,  Lorenzo,  for  proud  human  thought!  260 

There  let  my  thought  expatiate,  and  explore 
Balsamic  truths  and  healing  sentiments, 
Of  all  most  wanted,  and  most  welcome  here. 
For  gay  Lorenzo's  sake,  and  for  thy  own, 
My  soul ;  '  The  fruits  of  dying  friends  survey  ;  265 

Expose  the  vain  of  life ;  weigh  life  and  death ; 
Give  death  his  eulogy :  thy  fear  subdue  ; 
And  labour  that  first  palm  of  noble  minds, 
A  manly  scorn  of  terror  from  the  tomb.' 

HARVEST  GATHERED  FROM  THE  GRAVE. 

This  harvest  reap  from  thy  Narcissa's  grave.  270 

255.  Cimmerian  vale:  Gloomy  vale.  The  Cimmerii  were  a  wandering 
people  that  occupied  a  portion  of  Tartary.  The  Greeks,  it  is  said,  obtained 
their  first  knowledge  of  these  people  from  the  Phoenicians,  who,  wishing  to 
discourage  the  Grecian  traders  from  visiting  them,  originated  some  hard  sto- 
ries about  the  deep  gloom  or  perpetual  darkness  which  rested  upon  the  Cim- 
merian territory,  and  some  other  formidable  circumstances. 

Another  version  of  the  matter  is.  that  the  Cimmerians  lived  in  caves 
under  ground,  and  never  saw  the  light  of  the  sun. — Homers  Ochjs.  XI.  14. 

262.  Balsamic  truths  :  Consolatory,  soothing,  health-restoring  truths. 

265-6.  The  fruits,  &c. :  Survey  the  advantages  that  may  accrue  from 
dying  friends.     Expose  the  vain  of  life  :  uncover  the  vanity  of  life. 

268.  Labour,  &c.  :  Labour  (to  secure)  that  first  victory  of  noble  minds  (of 
which  \\~ie  palm  was  an  honorable  testimonial.)  The:e  is  an  allusion  to  the 
chariot-race  among  the  Greeks,  in  which  the  victor  was  presented  with  a 
palm-branch,  which  he  carried  in  his  hand.  The  next  line  states  what  the 
victory  to  be  achieved  is. 


NIGHT    III. 


155 


As  poets  feign' d,  from  Ajax'  streaming  blood 

Arose,  with  grief  inserib'd,  a  mournful  flow'r, 

Let  wisdom  blossom  from  my  mortal  wound. 

And  first,  of  dving  friends ;  what  fruit  from  these  ? 

It  brino^  us  more  than  triple  aid  ;  an  aid  275 

To  chase  our  thoughtlessness,  fear,  pride,  and  guilt 

Our  dying  friends  come  o'er  us,  like  a  cloud, 

To  damp  our  brainless  ardours,  and  abate 

That  glare  of  kfe  which  often  blinds  the  wise. 

Our  dving  friends  are  pioneers,  to  smooth  280 

Our  rugged  paths  to  death ;  to  break  those  bars 

Of  terror  and  abhorrence  nature  throws 

Cross  our  obstructed  way,  and  thus  to  make 

Welcome,  as  safe,  our  port  from  ev'ry  storm. 

Each  friend  by  fate  snatch'd  from  us  is  a  plume  2  5  5 

Pluek'd  from  the  wing  of  human  vanity, 

Which  makes  us  stoop  from  our  aerial  heights, 

And  damp'd  with  omen  of  our  own  decease. 

On  drooping  pinions  of  ambition  lower'.l. 

Just  skim  earth's  surface  ere  we  break  it  up,  290 

O'er  putrid  earth  to  scratch  a  little  dust 

And  save  the  world  a  nuk  S  mitten  friends 

Are  angels,  sent  on  errands  full  of  love  ; 

271.  From  Ajax'  streaming-  blood,  kc.  :  Next  to  Achilles,  Ajax  was  the 
bravest  and  most  impetuous  of  the  Greeks  engaged  in  the  Trojan  war.  He 
committed  suicide  by  stabbing  himself  to  the  heart.  The  blood  that  flowed 
from  the  wound  is  fabled  to  have  produced  the  flower  hyacinthus,  of  a  red 
color,  on  the  petal  of  which  lines  may  be  traced  which  resemble  in  form  the 
first  two  letters  of  his  name  in  the  Greek  character.  The  flower  is  not  the 
ordinary  hyacinth,  but  the  "  Imperial  Mastagon."' 

273.  My  mortal  wound:  The  wound  he  had  received  in  the  loss  of  Xar 
cissa. 

.    -     Br  unless  ardours  :  Thoughtless,  unreasonable  excitements  of  passion. 

To  damp  these. is  ihejirst  advantage  we  should  derive  from  the  death  of 

A  advantage  is.,  to  divest  of  its  terribleness  the  pathway 

of  Death   ('2S0-M'.     The  th'\rd  is  the  abatement  of  human  pride  (2S5-292). 

The  fourth  is  a  change  of  character  (294-302),  the  revolution  in  our  heart*- 

288.   Omen :  The  sign,  or  indication 


166  THE    COMPLAINT. 

For  us  they  languish,  and  for  us  they  die  : 

And  shall  they  languish,  shall  they  die,  in  vain  ?  295 

Ungrateful,  shall  we  grieve  their  hov'ring  shades, 

Which  wait  the  revolution  in  our  hearts  ? 

Shall  we  disdain  their  silent,  soft,  address, 

Their  posthumous  advice,  and  pious  pray'r  ? 

Senseless,  as  herds  that  graze  their  hallow'd  graves,  300 

Tread  under  foot  their  agonies  and  groans  ; 

Frustrate  their  anguish,  and  destroy  their  deaths  ? 

Lorenzo  !  no  ;  the  thought  of  death  indulge ; 
Give  it  its  wholesome  empire  !  let  it  reign, 
That  kind  ehastiser  of  thy  soul  in  joy  ;  305 

Its  reign  will  spread  thy  glorious  conquests  far, 
And  still  the  tumults  of  thy  ruffled  breast. 
Auspicious  era  !  golden  days  begin  ! 
The  thought  of  death  shall,  like  a  god,  inspire. 
And  why  not  think  on  death  ?     Is  life  the  theme  310 

Of  ev'ry  thought  ?  and  wish  of  ev'ry  hour  ? 
And  song  of  ev'ry  joy  ?     Surprising  truth  ! 
The  beaten  spaniel's  fondness  not  so  strange. 
To  wave  the  num'rous  ills  that  seize  on  life 
As  their  own  property,  their  lawful  prey;  315 

Ere  man  has  measured  half  his  weary  stage, 
His  luxuries  have  left  him  no  reserve, 
No  maiden  relishes,  unbroach'd  delights  ; 
On  cold-served  repetitions  he  subsists, 

And  in  the  tasteless  present  chews  the  past;  320 

Disgusted  chews,  and  scarce  can  swallow  down. 
Like  lavish  ancestors,  his  earlier  years 
Have  disinherited  his  future  hours, 
Which  starve  on  orts,  and  glean  then-  former  field. 

THE    THOUGHT    OF    LIVING    ALWAYS    ON    EARTH,    REVOLTING. 

Live  here,  Lorenzo  ! — shocking  thought !  325 

302.  Destroy  their  deaths :  Destroy  the  profit,  or  salutary  tendency,  of  their 
deaths. 

324.     Orts  :  Fragments,  or  refuse 


NIGHT    III.  157 

So  shocking,  they  who  wish  disown  it  too ; 

Disown  from  shame  what  they  from  folly  crave. 

Live  ever  in  the  womb,  nor  see  the  light ! 

For  what  live  ever  here  ? — with  lab'ring  step 

To  tread  our  former  footsteps  ?  pace  the  round  330 

Eternal  ?  to  climb  life's  worn  heavy  wheel 

"Which  draws  up  nothing  new  ?  to  beat,  and  beat 

The  beaten  track  ?  to  bid  each  wretched  day 

The  former  mock  ?  to  surfeit  on  the  same, 

And  yawn  our  joys  ?  or  thank  a  misery  335 

For  change,  though  sad  !  to  see  what  we  have  seen  ? 

Hear,  till  unheard,  the  same  old  slabber'd  tale  ? 

To  taste  the  tasted,  and  at  each  return 

Less  tasteful  ?  o'er  our  palates  to  decant 

Another  vintage  ?  strain  a  flatter  year,  340 

Through  loaded  vessels,  and  a  laxer  tone  ? 

Crazy  machines  to  grind  earth's  wasted  fruits ! 

Ill  ground,  and  worse  concocted !  load,  not  life  ! 

The  rational  foul  kennels  of  excess ! 

Still-streaming  thoroughfares  of  dull  debauch  !  345 

Trembling  each  gulp,  lest  death  should  snatch  the  bowL 

Such  of  our  fine  ones  Is  the  wish  refined ! 
So  would  they  have  it  :  elegant  desire  ! 


332.  Nothing  new,  fyc.  :  That  is.  in  the  way  of  pleasure.  The  allusion 
here  to  a  wheel  is  rather  obscure,  but  it  probably  refers  to  a  kind  of  wheel 
which  Philo  speaks  of  as  used  in  Egypt  for  elevating  the  waters  of  the  Nile 
to  the  high  grounds  which  its  annual  inundations  failed  to  reach.  The  wheel 
was  constructed  with  steps,  by  treading  upon  which  a  man  was  enabled  to 
turn  the  wheel  and  elevate  water  to  the  required  level.  The  process  must 
have  been  fatiguing,  and  the  wheel  would  become  worn,  and  it  would  be  a 
heavy  wheel,  which  draws  up  nothing  new.  The  author  has  selected  this  ma- 
chine and  its  effects,  as  a  representation  of  the  monotonous  and  laborious 
loutine  of  a  life  of  fashionable  indulgences  and  dissipations 

335.   Yawn  our  joys:  Yawn  over  our  joys. 

340.  Strain  a  flatter  year,  &c.  :  Force  the  products  of  a  less  relished  year 
through  loaded  vessels  of  the  body. 

343.  Load :  Used  here  as  a  noun. 


158  THE    COMPLAINT. 

Why  not  invite  the  bellowing  stalls  and  wilds  ? 

But  such  examples  might  their  riot  awe.  350 

Through  want  of  virtue,  that  is,  want  of  thought, 

(Tho'  on  bright  thought  they  father  all  their  flights) 

To  what  are  they  reduced  ?  to  love  and  hate 

The  same  vain  world ;  to  censure  and  espouse 

This  painted  shrew  of  life,  who  calls  them  fool  355 

Each  moment  of  each  day ;  to  flatter  bad 

Through  dread  of  worse  ;  to  cling  to  this  rude  rock, 

Barren,  to  them,  of  good,  and  sharp  with  ills, 

And  hourly  blacken'd  with  impending  storms, 

And  infamous  for  wrecks  of  human  hope —  360 

Scar'd  at  the  gloomy  gulf  that  yawns  beneath. 

Such  are  their  triumphs  !  such  their  pangs  of  joy ! 

'Tis  time,  high  time,  to  shift  this  dismal  scene. 
This  hugg'd,  this  hideous  state,  what  art  can  cure  ? 
One  only ;  but  that  one  what  all  may  reach  ;  365 

Virtue — she,  wonder-working  goddess  !  charms 
That  rock  to  bloom,  and  tames  the  painted  shrew ; 
And,  what  will  more  surprise,  Lorenzo  !  gives 
To  life's  sick  nauseous  iteration,  change ; 

And  straitens  nature's  circle  to  a  line.  370 

Believ'st  thou  this,  Lorenzo  !  lend  an  ear, 
A  patient  ear,  thou'lt  blush  to  disbelieve. 

A  languid  leaden  iteration  reigns, 
And  ever  must,  o'er  those  whose  joys  are  joys 
Of  sight,  smell,  taste.     The  cuckoo-seasons  sing  3*75 

3il9.  The  bellowing  stalls  and  icilds :  Here  figuratively  put  for  the  anmtall 
that  bellow  in  stalls  and  deserts. 

355.  This  painted  shrew  of  life :  Life  is  here  compared  to  an  ill-natured, 
fretful,  vexatious  woman,  decked  in  gaudy  and  misplaced  ornaments.  It  is 
next  compared  to  a  rude,  barren  rock  (357-58) . 

356.  To  flatter  bad:  To  speak  too  favorably  of  what  is  bad  in  their  con- 
dition. 

367.   Tames  the  painted  shrew :  The  idea  may  have  been  suggested  to  our 
author  by  Shakspeare's  play  of  "The  Taming  of  the  Shrew." 
369.  Iteration:  Repetition  of  the  same  experiences. 
375.  The  cuckoo- seasons  sing,  &c.  :   "  With  the  cuckoo,"  says  Mrs.  Ellis, 


NIGHT    III.  159 

The  same  dull  note  to  such  as  nothing  prize, 

But  what  those  seasons,  from  the  teeming  earth, 

To  doating  sense  indulge.     But  nobler  minds, 

Which  relish  fruits  unripen'd  by  the  sun, 

Make  their  days  various,  various  as  the  dyes  380 

On  the  dove's  neck,  which  wanton  in  his  rays. 

On  minds  of  dove-like  innocence  possess'd, 

On  lighten'd  minds  that  bask  in  virtue's  beams, 

Nothing  hangs  tedious,  nothing  old  revolves 

In  that  for  which  they  long,  for  which  they  live.  3S5 

Their  glorious  efforts,  wing'd  with  heavenly  hope, 

Each  rising  morning  sees  still  higher  rise ; 

Each  bounteous  dawn  its  novelty  presents 

To  worth  maturing,  new  strength,  lustre,  fame  ; 

"While  nature's  circle,  like  a  chariot-wheel  390 

Rolling  beneath  their  elevated  aims, 

Makes  their  fair  prospect  fairer  ev'ry  hour ; 

Advancing  virtue  in  a  line  to  bliss  ; 

"our  associations  are  in  some  respects  the  same  as  with  the  swallow  (with 
which  we  associate  the  ever-cheering  idea  of  returning  summer)  except  that 
we  are  in  the  habit  of  regarding  it  simply  as  a  voice  ;  and  what  a  voice ! 
How  calm,  and  clear,  and  rich !  How  full  of  all  that  can  be  told  of  the  end- 
less profusion  of  summer  charms  ! — of  the  hawthorn,  in  its  scented  bloom,  of 
the  blossoms  of  the  apple,  and  the  silvery  waving  of  the  fresh  green  corn,  of 
the  cowslip  in  the  meadow,  and  the  wild  rose  by  the  woodland  path ;  and 
last,  but  not  least  in  its  poetical  beauty,  of  the  springing  up  of  the  meek-eyed 
daisy,  to  welcome  the  foot  of  the  traveller  upon  the  soft  and  grassy  turf." 

373-385.  The  idea  conveyed  seems  to  be,  that  to  those  who  are  in  pur- 
suit of  the  pleasures  of  sense  only,  the  seasons,  like  the  cuckoo,  {cuckoo- 
Reasons,)  sing  the  same  dull  note ;  but  to  nobler  minds,  that  relish  intellect- 
ual and  moral  fruits,  [fruits  unripened  by  the  su?i,)  the  seasons  present  an 
infinite  variety,  and  possess  an  unceasing  power  to  charm. 

The  cuckoo  spends  but  a  brief  part  of  the  year  in  the  northerly  and  mid- 
dle parts  of  Europe.  It  first  appears  in  England  about  the  middle  of  April, 
takes  its  leave  about  the  first  of  July,  and  makes  its  way  to  Africa.  It 
returns  regularly  with  the  spring,  and  faun  some  dead  tree  or  branch  the  male 
cuckoo  pours  forth  in  dull  unvarying  monotony  the  sounds  of  cuekio,  cuckoo. 
This  admirably  illustrates  the  languid,  leaden  iteration,  or  dull  repetition 
and  sameness,  of  the  joys  derivable  only  from  sight,  smell,  taste. 

383.  Lighten'd:  Enlightened. 


160  THE    COMPLAINT. 

Virtue  which  Christian  motives  best  inspire  ! 

And  "bliss,  which  Christian  schemes  alone  ensure !  395 

LIFE    VALUABLE    AS    A    MEANS  ;    NOT    AS    AN    END. 

And  shall  we  then,  for  virtue's  sake,  commence 
Apostates  ?  and  turn  infidels  for  joy  ? 
A  truth  it  is,  few  doubt,  but  fewer  trust, 
'  He  sins  against  this  life,  who  slights  the  next.' 
What  is  this  life  ?  how  few  their  fav'rite  know  !  400 

Fond  in  the  dark,  and  blind  in  our  embrace, 
By  passionately  loving  life,  we  make 
Loved  life  unlovely,  hugging  her  to  death. 
We  give  to  time  eternity's  regard, 

And,  dreaming,  take  our  passage  for  our  port.  405 

Life  has  no  value  as  an  end,  but  means  ; 
An  end  deplorable  !  a  means  divine  ! 
When  'tis  our  all,  'tis  nothing  ;  worse  than  nought ; 
A  nest  of  pains  ;  when  held  as  nothing,  much. 
Like  some  fair  hum'rists,  life  is  most  enjoy'd  410 

When  courted  least ;  most  worth,  when  disesteem'd ; 
Then  'tis  the  seat  of  comfort,  rich  in  peace ; 
In  prospect  richer  far  ;  important !  awful ! 
Not  to  be  mention'd  but  with  shouts  of  praise  ! 
Not  to  be  thought  on  but  with  tides  of  joy !  415 

The  mighty  basis  of  eternal  bliss  ! 

Where  now  the  barren  rock  ?  the  painted  shrew  ? 
Where  now,  Lorenzo,  life's  eternal  round  ? 
Have  I  not  made  my  triple  promise  good  ? 

397.  For  joy:  For  the  sake  of  gaining  joy. — 404.  Eternity's  regard:  The 
reo-ard  due  to  eternity. — 405.  Take,  &e. :  We  dream  that  we  have  reached 
our  ultimate  destination,  whereas  we  are  passing  to  another  state  of  being. 
Port:  Harbor. 

409.  When  held  as  nothing,  &c.  :  When  regarded  as  nothing,  it  becomes  a 
means  of  great  happiness  (416). 

417-18.   The  barren  rock,  &c.  :  Referring  to  lines  35S,  355,  364. 

419.   Triple  promise :  A  promise  to  prove,  (1)  that  virtue  charms  the  bar- 


NIGHT    III.  101 

Vain  is  the  world  ;  but  only  to  the  vain.  420 

To  m  hat  compare  we  then  this  varying  scene, 

Whose  worth  ambiguous  rises  and  declines, 

Waxes  and  wanes?     (In  all,  propitious  Night 

Assists  me  here)  compare  it  to  the  moon  ; 

Dark  in  herself,  and  indigent ;  but  rich  425 

In  borrow'd  lustre  from  a  higher  sphere. 

When  gross  guilt  interposes,  lab'ring  earth, 

O'ershadow'd,  mourns  a  deep  eclipse  of  joy ; 

Her  joys,  at  brightest,  pallid  to  that  font 

Of  full  effulgent  glory  whence  they  flow.  430 

LIFE    AND    DEATH    COMPARED. 

Nor  is  that  glory  distant.     0  Lorenzo, 
A  good  man  and  an  angel !  these  between 
How  thin  the  barrier !  what  divides  their  fate  ? 
Perhaps  a  moment,  or  perhaps  a  year  ; 

Or  if  an  age,  it  is  a  moment  still ;  435 

A  moment,  or  eternity's  forgot. 
Then  be  what  once  they  were  who  now  are  gods ; 
Be  what  Philander  was,  and  claim  the  skies. 
Starts  timid  nature  at  the  gloomy  pass  ? 

The  soft  transition  call  it,  and  be  cheer'd.  440 

Such  it  is  often,  and  why  not  to  thee  ? 
To  hope  the  best  is  pious,  brave,  and  wise ; 
And  may  itself  procure  what  it  presumes. 
Life  is  much  natter'd,  death  is  much  traduced ; 
Compare  the  rivals,  and  the  kinder  crown.  445 

ren  rock  to  bloom  ;  (2)  tames  the  painted  shrew;  and  (3)  gives  an  agreeable 
change  to  the  dull  monotony  of  life  (366 — 370). 

422.    Worth  ambiguous  :  Worth  of  a  changeful  nature. 

426.   Sphere:  Sun. 

429    Pallid  to  that  font:  That  is,  when  compared  to  that  font  (the  sun). 

436.   Or:  Unless. 

4-i').  The  kinder  crown :  Honor  that  one  of  the  two  which  to  us  is  the 
move  kind. 


lt»2  THE    COMl'LAINT. 

'  Strange  competition  !' — True,  Lorenzo  !  strange ! 
So  little  life  can  cast  into  the  scale. 

Life  makes  the  soul  dependent  on  the  dust ; 
Death  gives  her  wings  to  mount  above  the  spheres. 
Thro'  chinks,  styled  organs,  dim  life  peeps  at  light ;  450 

Death  bursts  th'  involving  cloud,  and  all  is  day ; 
All  eye,  all  ear,  the  disembodied  pow'r. 
Death  has  fcign'd  evils  nature  shall  not  feel ; 
Life,  ills  substantial,  wisdom  cannot  shun. 
Is  not  the  mighty  mind,  that  son  of  Heav'n,  455 

By  tyrant  Life  dethroned,  imprison'd,  pain'd  ? 
By  death  enlarged,  ennobled,  deified  ? 
Death  but  entombs  the  body,  life  the  soul. 

'  Is  death  then  guiltless  ?  how  he  marks  his  way 
With  dreadful  waste  of  what  deserves  to  shine  !  460 

Art,  genius,  fortune,  elevated  poAv'r  ; 
With  various  lustres  these  light  up  the  world, 
Which  death  puts  out,  and  darkens  human  race.' 
I  grant,  Lorenzo,  this  indictment  just : 

The  sage,  peer,  potentate,  king,  conqueror!  405 

Death  humbles  these ;  more  barb'rous  life  the  man. 
Life  is  the  triumph  of  our  mould'ring  clay ; 
Death  of  the  spirit  infinite !  divine  ! 
Death  has  no  dread  but  what  frail  life  imparts  ; 
Nor  life  true  joy  but  what  kind  death  improves.  4  "70 

No  bliss  has  life  to  boast,  till  death  can  give 
Far  greater.     Life's  a  debtor  to  the  grave  ; 
Dark  lattice  !  letting  in  eternal  day  ! 

Lorenzo,  blush  at  fondness  for  a  life 
Which  sends  celestial  souls  on  errands  vile,  475 

*50.  Life:  Is  here  personified ;  so  also  in  (456). 
452.  Pow'r:    Soul. 

459.  Is  Death  then  guiltless  ?  Lorenzo  here  interposes  an  objection,  extend- 
ing to  463  inclusive. 

467-68.  The   body  triumphs  in  this  life  ;  the   soul   has   its   triumph  at 
death. 


NIGUT    III.  lt>3 

To  cater  for  the  sense,  and  serve  at  boards 
Where  ev'iy  ranger  of  the  wilds,  perhaps 
Each  reptile,  justly  claims  our  upper  hand. 
Luxurious  feast !  a  soul,  a  s>>ul  immortal, 
In  all  the  dainties  of  a  brute  bemired  !  480 

Lorenzo,  blush  at  terror  for  a  death 
~V\  liieh  gives  thee  to  repose  in  festive  bow'rs, 
"Where  nectars  sparkle,  angels  minister, 
And  more  than  angels  share,  and  raise,  and  crown, 
And  eternize,  the  birth,  bloom,  bursts  of  bliss.  485 

What  need  I  more  ?     O  death,  the  palm  is  thine. 
Then  welcome,  death !  thy  dreaded  harbingers, 
Age  and  disease  ;  disease,  though  long  my  guest. 
That  plucks  my  nerves,  those  tender  strings  of  life  ; 
Which,  pluek'd  a  little  more,  will  toll  the  bell  490 

That  calis  my  few  friends  to  my  funeral ; 
Where  feeble  nature  drops,  perhaps,  a  tear, 
While  reason  and  religion,  better  taught, 
Congratulate  the  dead,  and  crown  his  tomb 

476.  To  cater.  &c.  :  To  provide  for  the  gratification  of  sense.  The  author 
is  here  illustrating  his  position  in  (467) . 

484.  More  than  angels:  More  beings  than  angels:  that  is,  where  men  as 
well  as  angels  share.  Sec. 

4S6.  Need  I  more  :  Xeed  I  say  more. 

487.  Then  welcome,  death  :  John  Foster,  in  a  letter  to  a  friend,  thus  writes  : 
"  I  congratulate  you  and  myself  that  life  is  passing  fast  away.  What  a  su- 
perlatively grand  and  consoling  idea  is  that  of  Death  !  Without  this  radiant 
idea,  this  delightful  morning  star,  indicating  that  the  luminary  of  eternity 
is  going  to  rise,  life  would  to  my  view  darken  into  midnight  melancholy. 
Oh  !  the  expectation  of  living  here,  and  living  thus  always,  would  be  indeed 
a  prospect  of  overwhelming  despair.  But  thanks  to  that  decree  that  dooms 
us  to  die:  thanks  to  that  gospel  which  opens  the  vision  to  an  endless  life; 
and  thanks,  above  all,  to  that  Saviour-friend  who  has  promised  to  conduct 
all  the  faithful  through  the  sacred  trance  of  death  into  scenes  of  Paradise  and 
everlasting  delight." 

490.  Will  toll  the  bell :  Not  a  very  happy  figure  in  its  connexion,  since  the 
nerves  of  the  poet,  enfeebled  by  disease,  are  described  as  the  strings  which 
toll  the  bell.  We  learn  from  this  passage  that  in  advanced  years  he  had  but 
few  friends  who  would,  in  his  judgment,  at  least,  lament  his  decease. 


164  THE    COMPLAINT. 

"With  wreath  triumphant !     Death  is  victory  ;  495 

It  binds  in  chains  the  raging  ills  of  life : 

Lust  and  ambition,  wrath  and  avarice, 

Dragg'd  at  his  chariot-wheel,  applaud  his  pow'r. 

That  ills  corrosive,  cares  importunate, 

Are  not  immortal  too,  O  death,  is  thine.  500 

Our  day  of  dissolution ! — name  it  right, 

'Tis  our  great  pay-day  :  'tis  our  harvest,  rich 

And  ripe.     What  tho'  the  sickle,  sometimes  keen, 

Just  scars  us  as  we  reap  the  golden  grain  ? 

More  than  thy  balm,  0  Gilead  !  heals  the  wound.  505 

Birth's  feeble  cry,  and  death's  deep  dismal  groan, 

Are  slender  tributes  low-tax'd  nature  pays 

For  mighty  gain ;  the  gain  of  each  a  life  ! 

But  O  !  the  last  the  former  so  transcends, 

Life  dies,  compared;  life  lives  beyond  the  grave.  510 

SPLENDID    EULOGIUM    ON    DEATH. 

And  feel  I,  death,  no  joy  from  thought  of  thee  ? 
Death,  the  great  counsellor,  who  man  inspires 
With  every  nobler  thought  and  fairer  deed  ! 
Death,  the  deliverer,  who  rescues  man  ! 

Death,  the  re  warder,  who  the  rescued  crowns!  515 

Death,  that  absolves  my  birth,  a  curse  without  it ! 
Rich  death,  that  realizes  all  my  cares, 

498.  Dragg'd  at  his  chariot-wheel:  An  allusion  to  the  triumphal  procession 
in  honor  of  a  Roman  general  for  a  successful  campaign,  when  distinguished 
captives  were  exhibited  in  this  degraded  position. 

500.  7s  thine :  Ts  to  be  ascribed  to  thee — is  thy  work. 

502-  Pay-day :  Day  of  receiving  pay. 

508.  The  gain  of  each  a  life :  The  cry  at  birth  (506)  gains  this  life;  the 
groan  at  death  gains  the  life  immortal. 

510.  Life  dies,  compared :  Compared  with  the  life  immortal,  this  life  dies,  is 
no  longer  worthy  to  be  called  life. 

516.  Absolves  my  birth:  Accomplishes  the  design  of  my  birth,  which, 
without  the  event  of  death,  would  be  (at  least  comparatively)  a  curse 


NIGHT   III.  166 

Toils,  virtues,  hopes  ;  without  it  a  chimera ! 

Death,  of  all  pain  the  period,  not  of  joy ; 

Joy's  source  and  subject  still  subsist  unhurt ;  520 

One  in  my  soul,  and  one  in  her  great  sire, 

Though  the  four  winds  were  warring  for  my  dust. 

Yes,  and  from  winds  and  waves,  and  central  night, 

Though  prison'd  there,  my  dust  too  I  reclaim, 

(To  dust  when  drop  proud  Nature's  proudest  spheres)         525 

And  live  entire.     Death  is  the  crown  of  life  : 

Were  death  denied,  poor  man  would  live  in  vain  : 

Were  death  denied,  to  live  would  not  be  life  : 

Were  death  denied,  e'en  fools  would  wish  to  die 

Death  wounds  to  cure;  we  fall,  we  rise,  we  reign  !  530 

Spring  from  our  fetters,  fasten  in  the  skies, 

Where  blooming  Eden  withers  in  our  sight ; 

Death  gives  us  more  than  was  in  Eden  lost. 

This  king  of  ten-ox's  is  the  prince  of  peace. 

When  shall  I  die  to  vanity,  pain,  death  ?  535 

When  shall  I  die  ? — when  shall  I  live  for  ever  ? 

518.  A  chimera:  A  fanciful,  unreal,  incongruous  affair.  The  original  ap- 
plication of  this  word  is  to  a  fabulous  monster,  composed  of  a  dragon,  a  goat, 
and  a  lion  united,  forming  respectively  the  hinder  parts,  the  middle  of  the 
body,  and  the  fore  parts.  It  had  the  heads  of  all  three,  which  were  continu- 
ally vomiting  flames.  The  modern  import  of  this  word  is  very  legiti- 
mately derived  from  the  strange  composition  of  such  an  animal. 

519.  The  period  :  Termination,  or  terminating  process. 
524.  Reclaim  :  Claim  again  as  my  own. 

526.  Live  entire  :  Live  with  soul  and  Dody  re-united. 

530.  Death  wounds  to  cure :  How  admirable,  says  Dr.  Thomas  Brown,  i9 
that  goodness  which  knows  so  well  how  to  adapt  to  each  other  feelings  that 
are  opposite ;  which  gives  to  man  a  love  of  life  enough  to  reconcile  him 
without  an  effort  to  the  earth  which  is  to  be  the  scene  of  his  exertions,  and 
which  at  the  same  time  gives  those  purer  and  more  glorious  wishes  which 
make  him  ready  to  part  with  the  very  life  which  he  loved. 

535.  Die  to  vanity,  &c.  :  Be  released  from  these;  or,  become  indifferent  to 
them. 

536.  The  questions  in  this  line  are  to  be  regarded  as  of  the  same  import. 


NIGHT   IV. 


THE  CHRISTIAN  TRIUMPH. 

CONTAINING   THE   ONLY   CURE    FOR   THE     FEAR   OF   DEATH  ;     AND   PROPER 
SENTIMENTS   OF   HEART   ON   THAT   INESTIMABLE    BLESSING. 


Sttsrrihrii  tn  tjj?  IrnitmruIilB  |Bt.  ¥axfa. 


A  much-indebted  muse,  0  Yorke  !  intrudes. 
Amid  the  smiles  of  fortune  and  of  youth, 
Thine  ear  is  patient  of  a  serious  song. 
How  deep  implanted  in  the  breast  of  man 
The  dread  of  death  !  I  sing  its  sov'reign  cure.  5 

CURE  FOR  THE  FEAR  OF  DEATH. 

Why  start  at  death  ?  where  is  he  ?  death  arrived 
Is  past :  not  come,  or  gone  ;  he's  never  here. 
Ere  hope,  sensation  fails  ;  black-boding  man 
Receives,  not  suffers,  death's  tremendous  blow. 

1.  Muse:  A  classical  expression  derived  from  the  fable  of  certain  god 
desses  that  were  supposed  to  preside  over  poetry  and  the  other  liberal  arts 
When  stripped  of  figure,  it  means  here  the  poet  himself. 

7.    Not  come,  or  gonr ;   Either  he  is  not  come,  or  he  is  gone. 


NIGHT    IV.  lo" 

The  knoll,  the  shroud,  the  mattock,  and  the  grave  ;  10 

The  deep  damp  vault,  the  darkness,  and  the  worm ; 

These  are  the  bugbears  of  a  winter's  eve, 

The  terrors  of  the  living,  not  the  dead. 

Imagination's  fool,  and  error's  wretch, 

Man  makes  a  death  which  nature  never  made ;  15 

Then  on  the  point  of  his  own  fancy  falls, 

And  feels  a  thousand  deaths  in  fearing  one. 

But  were  death  frightful,  what  has  age  to  fear 
If  prudent ;  age  should  meet  the  friendly  foe, 
And  shelter  in  his  hospitable  gloom.  20 

I  scarce  can  meet  a  monument  but  holds 
My  younger ;  ev'ry  date  cries — '  Come  away.' 
And  what  recalls  me  ?     Look  the  world  around, 
And  tell  me  what :  the  wisest  cannot  tell. 
Should  any  born  of  woman  give  his  thought  25 

Full  range  on  just  dislike's  unbounded  field  ; 
Of  things,  the  vanity  :  of  men,  the  flaws  ; 
Flaws  in  the  best ;  the  many,  flaw  all  o'er  ; 
As  leopards  spotted,  or  as  Ethiops  dark ; 

Vivacious  ill ;  good  dying  immature ;  30 

(How  immature,  Narcissa's  marble  tells !) 
And  at  its  death  bequeathing  endless  pain  ; 
Hi3  heart,  though  bold,  would  sicken  at  the  sight 
And  spend  itself  in  sighs  for  future  scenes. 

DISADVANTAGES    OF    LIVING    TOO    LONG. 

But  grant  to  life  (and  just  it  is  to  grant  35 

14.  Fool  and  wretch  are  in  apposition  with  man  (15)  and  relate  to  him. 

16.  Fanry  is  here  figuratively  represented  as  a  sword. 

20.   Shelter :  Take  shelter. 

22.  My  younger :  A  younger  person  than  myself. 

30.  Vivacious  ill :  Long-lived  ill.  Ill  and  gocd  are  abst>act  names  used 
here  for  concrete,  that  is,  for  evil  and  good  persons,  as  is  evident  from  the 
next  line. 

32.  Pain :  That  is,  to  survivors. 


108  THE    COMPLAINT. 

To  lucky  life)  some  perquisites  of  joy ; 

A  time  there  is,  when,  like  a  thrice-told  tale, 

Long-rifled  life  of  sweet  can  yield  no  more, 

But  from  our  comment  on  the  comedy, 

Pleasing  reflections  on  parts  well  sustain'd,  40 

Or  purpos'd  emendations  where  we  fail'd, 

Or  hopes  of  plaudits  from  our  candid  Judge, 

When,  on  their  exit,  souls  are  bid  unrobe, 

Toss  Fortune  back  her  tinsel  and  her  plume, 

And  drop  this  mask  of  flesh  behind  the  scene.  45 

With  me  that  time  is  come  ;  my  world  is  dead  ; 
A  new  world  rises,  and  new  manners  reign. 
Foreign  comedians,  a  spruce  band !  arrive 
To  push  me  from  the  scene,  or  hiss  me  there. 
What  a  pert  race  starts  up  !  the  strangers  gaze,  50 

And  I  at  them  ;  my  neighbour  is  unknown  ; 
Nor  that  the  worst.     Ah  me  !  the  dire  effect 
Of  loit'ring  here,  of  death  defrauded  long ; 
Of  old  so  gracious  (and  let  that  suffice) 
My  very  master  knows  me  not. 55 

Shall  I  dare  say,  peculiar  is  the  fate  ? 
I've  been  so  long  remember'd,  I'm  forgot. 
An  object  ever  pressing  dims  the  sight, 
And  hides  behind  its  ardour  to  be  seen. 

44.  Toss  Fortune  back:  Toss  back  to  Fortune  her,  &c.  Fortune,  or  chance, 
was  deified  by  the  ancient  Pagans  and  worshipped.  Hence,  according  to 
modern  use,  the  word  is  figuratively  used  to  denote  a  power  which  is  sup- 
posed to  distribute  the  various  allotments  of  life  according  to  her  own  hu- 
mour, or  in  rather  an  arbitrary  manner.  Of  course  it  is  not,  upon  the  page 
of  a  Christian  poet,  to  be  strictly  interpreted,  but  the  phrase  quoted  simply 
means;  toss  back  the  gaudy  ornaments  that  have  been  granted  you. 

46.  My  world  is  dead :  The  world  is  to  me  as  if  dead,  my  connexion  with 
it  is  virtually  at  an  end.  The  poet  here  furnishes  rather  a  melancholy 
sketch  of  his  own  later  days,  under  the  idea  of  a  theatrical  scene. 

55.  Master:  Probably  allusion  is  made  to  the  king — George  II..  of 
Great  Britain.  It  will  be  seen  that  he  had  depended  not  a  little  upon  court 
favor  a  Mil  preferments;  that  he  had  studied  to  ingratiate  himself  with  the 
great  ;i   •  ',  the  titled  of  Britain's  sons   (67). 


RIGHT    IV.  169 

When  in  his  courtiers'  ears  I  pour  my  plaint,  60 

They  drink  it  as  the  nectar  of  the  great, 
And  squeeze  my  hand,  and  beg  me  come  to-morrow  ! 
Refusal !  canst  thou  wear  a  smoother  form  ? 

Indulge  me,  nor  conceive  I  drop  my  theme  ; 
Who  cheapens  life,  abates  the  fear  of  death.  ('■ 

Twice  told  the  period  spent  on  stubborn  Troy. 
Court-favour,  yet  untaken,  I  besiege  ; 
Ambition's  ill-judged  effort  to  be  rich. 
Alas  !  ambition  makes  my  little  less, 

Imbitt'ring  the  possess'd.     Why  wish  for  more  ?  70 

Wishing,  of  all  employments,  is  the  worst ! 
Philosophy's  reverse,  and  health's  decay ! 
Were  I  as  plump  as  stall'd  Theology, 
Wishing  would  waste  me  to  this  shade  again. 
Were  I  as  wealthy  as  a  South-sea  dream,  75 

66.  Allusion  to  the  ten  years'  war  between  the  city  of  ancient  Troy,  and 
the  states  of  Greece.  Court  favor  is  here  spoken  of  under  the  figure  of  a 
besieged  town. 

73.   Stall'd  Theology :  A  well-fed  churchman. 

75.  A  South-sea  dream :  Reference  is  here  made  to  the  South-Sea  Scheme 
which  was  projected  by  Sir  John  Blount  in  1719,  as  the  result  of  the  exces- 
sive profits  which  for  a  few  years  had  been  reaped,  though  not  honourably, 
by  the  South-Sea  Company.  This  scheme  professed  to  be  designed  to  ena- 
ble Great  Britain  to  pay  off  her  national  debt  by  its  being  assumed  by  the 
South-Sea  Company,  who,  in  consequence,  were  empowered  by  Parliament 
to  raise  the  requisite  funds  by  various  means ;  and  particularly  by  opening 
books  of  subscription,  and  granting  annuities  to  sucn  public  creditors  as 
should  exchange  the  security  of  the  crown  for  that  of  the  South-Sea  Company, 
with  the  emoluments  which  might  result  from  their  commerce. 

This  of  course  occasioned  a  prodigious  rise  in  the  value  or  price  of  the 
stock  of  that  company.  It  soon  reached  four  times  its  original  price,  and 
certain  unfounded  reports  were  originated  which  favoured  the  iniquitous 
speculation,  so  that,  upon  opening  the  subscript ioa  books,  persons  of  all 
ranks,  and  from  all  parts  of  the  kingdom,  crowded  to  the  South-Sea  house 
to  become  stockholders.  Many  persons  speculated  upon  the  stock  thus  sub- 
scribed and  realized  about  ten  times  what  they  paid  for  it-  New  manufac- 
turing companies,  and  many  absurd  projects  were  started  by  unprincipled 
individuals  taking  advantage  of  the  infatuation  that  had  seized  all  classes, 
who  were  expecting  by  this  South-Sea  scheme  to  make  a  foitune. 
8 


170  HIE    COMPLAINT. 

Wishing  is  an  expedient  to  be  poor. 
Wishing,  that  constant  hectic  of  a  fool, 
Caught  at  a  court,  purg'd  off  by  purer  air 
And  simpler  diet,  gifts  of  rural  life  ! 

Blest  be  that  hand  divine,  which  gently  laid  80 

My  heart  at  rest  beneath  this  humble  shed. 
The  world's  a  stately  bark,  on  dangerous  seas 
With  pleasure  seen,  but  boarded  at  our  peril : 
Here,  on  a  single  plank,  thrown  safe  ashore, 
I  hear  the  tumult  of  the  distant  throng  85 

As  that  of  seas  remote,  or  dying  storms, 
And  meditate  on  scenes  more  silent  still ; 
Pursue  my  theme,  and  tight  the  fear  of  death. 
Here,  like  a  shepherd  gazing  from  his  hut, 
Touching  his  reed,  or  leaning  on  his  staff,  90 

Eager  ambition's  fiery  chase  I  see  ; 
I  see  the  circling  hunt  of  noisy  men 
Buret  law's  enclosure,  leap  the  mounds  of  right, 
Pursuing,  and  pursued,  each  other's  prey ; 
As  wolves  for  rapine,  as  the  fox  for  wiles,  95 

"At  length,  however,"  says  Dr.  Russell,  the  historian,  "to  use  the  phrase 
of  the  times,  the  bubble  hegan  to  burst.  It  was  discovered  that  such  as  were 
thought  to  be  in  the  secret  had  disposed  of  all  their  stock,  while  the  tide 
was  at  its  height.  A  universal  alarm  was  spread.  Every  one  wanted  to 
sell,  and  nobody  to  buy,  except  at  a  very  reduced  price.  The  South-Sea 
stock  fell  as  rapidly  as  it  had  risen,  and  to  the  lowest  ebb;  so  that  in  a  little 
time  nothing  was  to  be  seen  of  this  bewitching  scheme  but  the  direful  ef- 
fects of  its  violence — the  wreck  of  private  fortunes,  and  the  bankruptcy  of 
merchants  and  trading  companies !  nor  anything  to  be  heard  but  the  ravings 
of  disappointed  ambition,  the  execrations  of  beggared  avarice,  the  pathetic 
wailings  of  innocent  credulity,  the  grief  of  unexpected  poverty,  or  the  fran- 
tic howlings  of  despair.  The  timely  interposition  and  steady  wisdom  of 
Parliament  only  could  have  prevented  a  general  bankruptcy." — Modem 
Europe,  vol    ii.  397. 

The  above  graphic  picture  is  scarcely  too  high  colored  for  an  exact  por- 
traiture of  a  similar  mania,  attended  with  similar  disastrous  effects,  which 
prevailed  in  the  United  States  in  1836  and  1837.  relative  to  speculations  >t> 
land  and  the  building  of  towns. 

77.   Hectic:   Consumptive  fever. 


NIGHT    IV.  1 71 

Till  death,  that  mighty  hunter,  earths  them  all. 

Why  all  this  toil  for  triumphs  of  an  hour  ? 
What  though  we  wade  in  wealth  or  soar  in  fame, 
Earth's  highest  station  ends  in  '  Here  he  lies ;' 
And  '  Dust  to  dust,'  concludes  her  noblest  song.  100 

If  this  song  lives,  posterity  shall  know 
One,  though  in  Britain  born,  with  courtiers  bred, 
Who  thought  e'en  gold  might  come  a  day  too  late, 
Nor  on  his  subtle  death-bed  plann'd  his  scheme 
For  future  vacancies  in  the  church  or  state,  105 

Some  avocation  deeming  it — to  die  ; 
Unbit  by  rage  canine  of  dying  rich  ; 
Guilt's  blunder  !  and  the  loudest  laugh  of  Hell. 

ADDRESS    TO    THE    AGED. 

0  my  coevals !  remnants  of  yourselves  ! 

Poor  human  ruins  tottering  o'er  the  grave  !  110 

Shall  we,  shall  aged  men,  like  aged  trees, 

Strike  deeper  their  vile  root,  and  closer  cling, 

Still  more  enamour'd  of  this  wretched  soil  ? 

Shall  our  pale  wither'd  hands  be  still  stretch'd  out, 

Trembling,  at  once,  with  eagerness  and  age?  115 

With  av'rice,  and  convulsions,  grasping  hard  ? 

Grasping  at  air  !  for  what  has  earth  beside  ? 

Man  wants  but  little,  nor  that  little  long  : 

How  soon  must  he  resign  his  very  dust, 

Which  frugal  nature  lent  him  for  an  hour  !  120 

Years  unexperienced  rush  on  numerous  ills  ; 

And  soon  as  man,  expert  from  time,  has  found 
96.  Earths:  Brings  down  to  the  eartn 

107.  Unbit  by  rage  canine :  Not  bitten  by  canine  madness ;  not  affected  by 
such  a  rage,  for' dying  rich,  as  the  mad  dog  exhibits  in  tne  disease  of  hydro 
phobia. 

109.  Omy  coevals:  The  poet  in  his  old  age  here  most  tenderly  and  elo- 
quently addresses  his  companions  in  years. 

122.  Expert  from  time:  Taught  by  time,  or  by  the  events  of  time,  hat 
found  the  key,  tyc  :  As  soon  as  he  has  learned  to  enjoy  life,  or,  rather,  to 
perform  its  du!i«=  and  avoid  its  snares,  he  dies. 


I7z  THE    COMPLAINT. 

The  key  of  life,  it  opes  the  gates  of  death. 

When  in  this  vale  of  years  I  backward  look, 
And  miss  such  numbers,  numbers  too,  of  such,  125 

Firmer  in  health,  and  greener  in  their  age, 
And  stricter  on  their  guard,  and  fitter  far 
To  play  life's  subtle  game,  I  scarce  believe 
I  still  survive.     And  am  I  fond  of  life, 

Who  scarce  can  think  it  possible  I  live  ?  180 

Alive  by  miracle  !  or,  what  is  next, 
Alive  by  Mead  !     if  I  am  still  alive, 
Who  long  have  buried  what  gives  life  to  live, 
Firmness  of  nerve,  and  energy  of  thought. 
Life's  lee  is  not  more  shallow  than  impure  135 

And  vapid  :  sense  and  reason  show  the  door, 
Call  for  my  bier,  and  point  me  to  the  dust. 

RESIGNATION    TO    THE    GREAT    ARBITER    OF    LIFE    AND    DEATH. 

O  thou  great  Arbiter  of  life  and  death ! 
.Nature's  immortal,  immaterial  sun  ! 

Whose  all-prolific  beam  late  call'd  me  forth  140 

From  darkness,  teeming  darkness,  where  I  lay 
The  worm's  inferior  ;  and,  in  rank,  beneath 
The  dust  I  tread  on ;  high  to  bear  my  brow, 
To  drink  the  spirit  of  the  golden  day, 

And  triumph  in  existence  ;  and  couldst  know  145 

No  motive  but  my  bliss  ;  and  hast  ordain'd 
A  rise  in  blessing  !  with  the  Patriarch's  joy 
Thy  call  I  follow  to  the  land  unknown : 
I  trust  in  thee,  and  know  in  whom  I  trust : 
Or  life  or  death  is  equal ;  neither  weighs;  150 

132.  Mead  :  The  author's  physician. 

133.  What  gives  life  to  live :  What  grants  to  life  the  power  to  live  ;  what 
grants  to  life  its  very  existence,  namely,  firmness  of  nerve,  and  energy  of 
thought. 

135.  Life's  lee  is  vapid :  Life,  in  its  advanced  stages,  is  here  compared  to 
an  old  emctv  wine  cask,  the  lee,  dreg  or  sediment  in  which  is  shallow,  &c. 
150.    Weighs     Preponderates. 


NIGHT    IV.  113 

All  weight  in  this — 0  let  me  live  to  thee. 

Though  Nature's  terrors  thus  may  be  represt, 
Still  frowns  grim  death ;  guilt  points  the  tyrant's  spear. 
And  whence  all  human  guilt  ?     From  death  forgot. 
Ah  me  !  too  long  I  set  at  nought  the  swarm  155 

Of  friendly  warnings  which  around  me  flew, 
And  smiled  unsmitten.     Small  my  cause  to  smile  ; 
Death's  admonitions,  like  shafts  upwards  shot, 
More  dreadful  by  delay,  the  longer  ere 

They  strike  our  hearts,  the  deeper  is  their  wound.  160 

O  think  how  deep,  Lorenzo  !  here  it  stings ; 
Who  can  appease  its  anguish  ?  how  it  burns  ! 
What  hand  the  barb'd,  envenom'd  thought  can  draw  ? 
What  healing  hand  can  pour  the  balm  of  peace, 
And  turn  my  sight  undaunted  on  the  tomb  ?  165 

THE  REDEEMER  ON  THE  CROSS. 

With  joy, — with  grief,  that  healing  hand  I  see  : 
Ah  !  too  conspicuous  !  it  is  fix'd  on  high. 
On  high  ? — what  means  my  phrensy  ?     I  blaspheme ; 
Alas  !  how  low  !  how  far  beneath  the  skies 
The  skies  it  form'd,  and  now  it  bleeds  for  me —  1*70 

But  bleeds  the  balm  I  want — yet  still  it  bleeds  ! 
Draw  the  dire  steel — ah  no !  the  dreadful  blessing 
What  heart  or  can  sustain,  or  dares  forego  ? 
There  hangs  all  human  hope ;  that  nail  supports 
The  falling  universe  :  that  gone,  we  drop  ;  1*75 

Horror  receives  us,  and  the  dismal  wish 

154.  From  death  forgot :  Forgetfulness  of  death  is  assigned  as  the  prolific 
cause  of  that  ungodliness  and  vice  which  give  to  death's  dart  its  pvat — its 
power  to  distress  the  soul. 

169.  Beneath  the  skies :  On  the  cross. 

175.  The  falling  universe :  The  expression  refers  to  mankind  falling  into 
endless  ruin. 

176.  The  dismal  u-ish  that  Creation  had  been  smothered  in  her  birth  : — This 
dash  seems  to  denote  that  the  sense  is  left  incomplete,  that  the  idea  is  not 


174  THK    COMPLAINT. 

Creation  had  been  smother'd  in  her  birth — 

Darkness  his  curtain,  and  his  bed  the  dust ; 

When  stars  and  sun  are  dust  beneath  his  throne ! 

In  heav'n  itself  can  such  indulgence  dwell  ?  180 

0  what  a  groan  was  there  !  a  groan  not  his  : 

He  seized  our  dreadful  right,  the  load  sustain'd, 

And  heaved  the  mountain  from  a  guilty  world. 

A  thousand  worlds  so  bought,  were  bought  too  dear ; 

Sensations  new  in  angels'  hosoms  rise,  18.5 

Suspend  their  song,  and  make  a  pause  in  bliss. 

0  for  their  song  to  reach  my  lofty  theme  ! 
Inspire  me.  Night !  with  all  thy  tuneful  spheres, 
Much  rather  Thou  who  dost  these  spheres  inspire  ! 
Whilst  I  with  seraphs  share  seraphic  themes,  190 

And  show  to  men  the  dignity  of  man, 
Lest  I  blaspheme  my  subject  with  my  song. 
Shall  Pagan  pages  glow  celestial  flame, 
And  Christian  languish  ?     On  our  hearts,  not  heads, 
Falls  the  foul  infamy.     My  heart,  awake  :  195 

"What  can  awake  thee,  unawaked  by  this, 
'  Expended  Deity  on  human  weal  ?' 
Feel  the  great  truths  which  burst  the  tenfold  night 

fully  expressed.  Leaving  it  in  this  state,  the  author  proceeds  with  his  gra- 
phic picture  of  the  Redeemer's  humiliation  and  sufferings  in  behalf  of  '"  the 
falling  universe."  Darkness  his  curtain,  and  his  bed  the  dust:  not  only  did 
he  bleed  on  the  cross :  he  was  enveloped  in  the  darkness  of  the  grave :  he 
made  it  his  bed :  when  stars  and  suns  are  dust  beneath  his  throne,  that  is 
although  stars  and  suns  are  dust,  are  no  more  valuable,  compared  with  his 
divine  majesty,  supremacy,  and  glory.     In  one  edition  the  (17S)  line  reads 

thus : — 

"  Darkness  is  Ins  curtain,  and  his  bed  the  dust." 

181.  Ji  groan  not  his :  Not  proceeding  from  sufferings  on  his  own  account, 

ur  due  to  him  from  any  fault  or  crime  of  his  own. 

189.  Inspire :  Cause  to  move,  as  if  they  were  possessed  of  animation. 

192.  Blaspheme:  Degrade. 

193.  Glow:  Glow  with. 

196.  By  this  :  By  this  declaration  or  sentiment. 

197    Deity  having  expended  its  vast  resources  of  benevolence  and  power 
in  promoting  the  welfare  ol  man. 


night  iv.  175 

Of  heathen  error,  with  a  golden  flood 

Of  endless  day.     T  be  fired ;  200 

And  to  believe,  Lorenzo,  is  to  feel. 

ICE    AND    THE    LOVE    OF    GOD. 

Thou  m  :r?mendou3  Pow'r  ! 

Still  more  tr-  ■  odroos  lore 

That  arms  with  awe  more  awful  thy  commands, 

A*^d  fool  tra:  -  _     -        lips  in  sevenfold  guilt ;  '205 

How  our  hearts  tremble  at  thy  love  immei,- 

In  love  immense,  inviolably  j  □ 

Thou,  rather  than  thy  justice  should  be  stain'd, 

Didst  stain  the  cross  ~:>rk  of  wonders  far 

TL  :■  _  - .  that  thy  dearest  far  might  bleed,  210 

Bold  th:  .'J.  I  dare  speak  it  or  repr 

Should  man  more  execrate  or  boast  the  _ 
"Which  r:  such  love  inflamed  ? 

\r  mounts:  I'd  arms 

Sterr.  id  soft^miling  Love,  embrace,  215 

Supporting,  in  full  majesty,  thy  throne, 
"When  seem'd  sty  to  need  support, 

Or  that,  or  man,  inevita' 
What  but  the  tathoi  I  I  bought  divine 

;'.d  labour  s  lient  from  220 

And  rescue  both  ?     Both  rescue  !  both  - 
Ohow  are  botl  :-d! 

The  wondrous  deed !  or  shall  I  call  it  n: 
A  wonder  in  Omnipoter 

-  -       g ■ :  is  than  m 

200-1.  The  sentiment  is:  "We  cannot  feel,  without  feeling  inte 
we  cannot  helieve  the  great  b  iting  to  the  incarnation  and  atonement 

of  the  Divine  Redeemer,  and  not  feel  thus. 
•     Or  that :  Either  that,  &c 

220.  Labour :  Elaborate,  bring  forth  as  the  result  of  effort. 

221.  Rescue  both  :  Rescue  from  ruin  both  t:  ror.c,  and  man. 

To  sods :  To  the  ange.  5        I  :re  often  called  "the  sons  of  God." 


176  THE    COMPLAINT. 


A    GOD    ALL    MERCY    IS    A    GOD    UNJUST. 

Not  thus  our  infidels  tli'  Eternal  draw, 
A  God  all  o'er  consummate,  absolute, 
Full  orb'd,  in  his  whole  round  of  rays  complete : 
They  set  at  odds  Heav'n's  jarring  attributes, 
And  with  one  excellence  another  wound  ;  230 

Maim  heav'n's  perfection,  break  its  equal  beams, 
Bid  mercy  triumph  over — God  himself, 
Undeified  by  their  opprobrious  praise  : 
A  God  all  mercy  is  a  God  unjust. 

Ye  brainless  wits  !  ye  baptized  infidels  !  235 

Ye  worse  for  mending  !  wash'd  to  fouler  stains  ! 
The  ransom  was  paid  down  ;  the  fund  of  heav'n, 
Heaven's  inexhaustible,  exhausted  fund, 
Amazing  and  amazed,  pour'd  forth  the  price, 
All  price  beyond :  though  curious  to  compute,  240 

Archangels  fail'd  to  cast  the  mighty  sum : 
Its  value  vast  ungrasp'd  by  minds  create, 
For  ever  hides  and  glows  in  the  Supreme. 
And  was  the  ransom  paid  ?     It  was  ;  and  paid 
(What  can  exalt  the  bounty  more  ?)  for  you.  245 

The  sun  beheld  it — No,  the  shocking  scene 
Drove  back  his  chariot :  Midnight  veil'd  his  face, 
Not  such  as  this,  not  such  as  Nature  makes  : 
A  midnight  Nature  shudder'd  to  behold ; 

235.  Ye  brai7ilcss  wits,  &c.  :  The  celebrated  and  once  abandoned  Earl  of 
Rochester,  after  his  reformation,  and  just  before  his  death,  is  reported  to  have 
expressed  a  desire  for  his  surviving  son  in  the  following  language: — "that 
ne  muht  never  be  a  wit,  that  is,  one  of  those  wretched  creatures  who  pride 
themselves  in  abusing  God  and  religion,  denying  his  being  or  his  providence, 
but  rather  that  he  might  become  an  honest  and  religious  man,  which  alone 
could  render  him  the  support  and  blessing  of  his  family." 

240.  Curious :  Desirous. 

242.   Create :  Created. 

217.  Drove  back  his  chariot :  An  allusion  to  the  Sun  as  n  Pagan  divinity 
who  was  represented  as  riding  in  a  chariot  drawn  by  four  horses 


XIGHT    IT.  ITT 

idnight  new  !  a  dread  eclipse  (without 

Opposing  spheres)  from  her  Creator's  frown ! 

Sun  !  didst  thou  fly  thy  Maker  s  pain  J  or  start 
oat  enormous  load  of  human  guilt 
oh  bow'd  his  blessed  head,  o'erwhelm'd  his  cross, 

• 

"With  pangs,  strange  pangs !  deliverM  of  her  dead  ? 

H-rll  L: -•'"."  I:  a:.i  L.-.v'-  -.;_:.:  _ :.:  .-::  :..  .  :-.  :  i: : 

H-rav" n  wept,  that  man  might  smile !  Hearn  bled,  that  man 
ght  never  die  ! 

THE   TRIOCPHAXT   KESTBRECTIOX   A5T  0  X. 

And  is  devotion  virtn  -  compelTd.  260 

What  heart  of  stone  but  glows  at  thoughts  like  thes 
Such  contemplations  mount  us,  and  should  mount 

Z'..-   :.. ::.  1  -::__  '..  _'_ ;:.  :.::  -'-.:  _.i-:       :.  — :v.. 
Unraptured,  uninflamed.    Where  roll  my  thoughts 
rest  from  wonders  !  other  wonders  rise, 

-trike  wh  roll :  my  soul  is  caught : 

H-  _  _ 

i  on  her  in  a  throng,  and  close  her  round 

-  ris'ner  of  amaze !     In  his  blest  fife 
I  see  the  path,  and  in  his  death  the  price, 
A:  i  ::.  L>  _•:-   :  as:-->~:  :_-■>  ::•■  :  s-;-  :r~:-> 

250.  A  midnight  mat:  Anew  =r.  ::.-.::.-  :::.:.-.  ~:  :  r-r  ziy  ::—:•. 
WiAomt  opposing  tphtrts:  without  the  interposition  of  the  moon  between  is 

l: . :  :"; .-  ;..  .  :v.  -:;  ;  ir.  r  :l.:~e  ::':.-■;  ::  . ..i:y  >.: :       I:    '  :;  i"^::;:;^ 

:  :"    - 
ri'.  jr.:  :.:.--.  :i-   :y  :.:  r>:ii::_;:y  ':•=  i:::  -.:-"-:  ::r 

-  '  -  ■ 

pr_:  iV.r.Ti".::-  :".t  rr.ir  t_.  -  -...--  ::  -r.r-'-f-  v  :;  :::  :r  :.:x::. 
J>~:  :.t  :_..  :'_..  ::  -;'-.:?  '.':.-.  tr.i  ;.".::;:!  .;.    .:t:  i ":-"." 

260.  :  2t*  compdCd :  The  author  had  asked — And  is  dentin  virtue  ?  is  it 
worthy  of  praise  or  reward  ?  He  answers ;  'tis  compelled:  it  is  unavoidable ; 
it  cannot,  fail  to  arise  upon  contemplations  like  these. 

262.  Momni  us :  Raise  us.  By  a  poetic  license  the  verb  neuter  is  changed 
::  i  V;.-':  —  !-;.-.■■■•? 

a* 


178 


THE    COMPLAINT. 


Of  immortality. — And  did  he  rise  ? 

Hear,  0  ye  nations  !  hear  it,  O  ye  dead ! 

He  rose,  he  rose  !  he  burst  the  bars  of  death. 

Lift  up  your  heads,  ye  everlasting  gates,  2  "7  5 

A.nd  give  the  King  of  Glory  to  come  in. 

Who  is  the  King  of  Glory  ?     He  who  left 

His  throne  of  glory  for  the  pangs  of  death. 

Lift  up  your  heads,  ye  everlasting  gates, 

And  give  the  King  of  Glory  to  come  in.  280 

Who  is  the  King  of  Glory  ?     He  who  slew 

The  rav'nous  foe  that  gorged  all  human  race ! 

The  King  of  Glory  he,  whose  glory  fill'd 

Heav'n  with  amazement  at  his  love  to  man  •, 

And  with  divine  complacency  beheld  285 

Pow'rs  most  illumined  wilder'd  in  the  theme. 

HUMAN    NATURE,    THROUGH    CHRIST,    TRIUMPHANT. 

The  theme,  the  joy,  how  then  shall  man  sustain  ? 
0  the  burst  gates  !  crush'd  sting  !  demolish' d  throne  ? 
Last  gasp  !  of  vanquished  death.     Shout,  earth  and  heav'n, 
This  sum  of  good  to  man  !  whose  nature  then  290 

Took  wing,  and  mounted  with  him  from  the  tomb. 
Then,  then,  I  rose  ;  then  first  humanity 
Triumphant  past  the  crystal  ports  of  light, 
(Stupendous  guest !)  and  seized  eternal  youth, 
Seized  in  our  name.     E'er  since  'tis  blasphemous  295 

To  call  man  mortal.     Man's  mortality 
Was  then  transferr'd  to  death  ;  and  heav'n's  duration 

275.  Lift  up,  &c.  :  Much  of  the  phraseology  of  this  beautiful  passage  is 
drawn  from  the  24th  Psalm,  but  applied  to  a  very  different  event  from  that 
which  it  there  sets  forth  by  a  very  strong  apostrophe  to  the  gates  of  the 
holy  city.  Our  author  transfers  the  apostrophe  to  the  gates  of  heaven,  on 
the  grander  occasion  of  the  triumphant  ascension  and  entrance  there  of  the 
lately  crucified  Son  of  God. 

292.  Then,  &c  :  A  most  magnificent  climax  of  thought  is  here  presented. 
Tiien,  1  rose ;  when  Christ  rose,  then  virtually  I  rose ;  my  own  resurrection 
was  thus  effectually  provided  for  and  guaranteed. 


NIGHT    IT. 


,79 


Unalienably  seal'd  to  this  frail  frame, 

This  child  of  dust — Man,  all-immortal,  hail ! 

Hail,  Heav'n,  all  lavish  of  strange  gifts  to  man !  300 

Thine  all  the  glory,  man's  the  boundless  bliss. 

Where  am  I  rapt  by  this  triumphant  theme, 
On  Christian  joy's  exulting  wing,  above 
Th'  Aonian  mount ! — Alas  !  small  cause  of  joy  ! 
"What  if  to  pain  immortal  ?  if  extent  305 

Of  being,  to  preclude  a  close  of  wo  ! 
Where,  then,  my  boast  of  immortality  ? 
I  boast,  it  still,  though  cover'd  o'er  with  guilt ; 
For  guilt,  not  innocence,  his  life  he  pour'd ; 
'Tis  guilt  alone  can  justify  his  death;  310 

Not  that,  unless  his  death  can  justify 
Relenting  guilt  in  heav'n's  indulgent  sight. 
If,  sick  of.  folly,  I  relent,  he  writes 

301.  Thine,  &c.  :  Thy  property  is  all  the  glory :  man's  property  or  privi- 
lege is  the  boundless  bliss  of  heaven.  To  Thee  belongs  the  glory — all  of  it ; 
to  man  belongs  the  bliss. 

304.  Above  the  Aonian  Mount :  A  mountain  in  Boeotia,  more  anciently 
called  Aonia.  It  was  distinguished  in  classical  mythology  as  the  resi- 
dence of  the  Muses.  Our  author  represents  himself  as  a  bird  carried  up  on 
Christian  joy's  exulting  wing  above  this  mount.  He  only  means,  in  plain 
language,  to  intimate  that  his  theme  has  borne  his  contemplation  to  a  higher 
eminence,  and  to  more  commanding  prospects,  than  heathen  poets  had  at- 
tained under  the  patronage  of  the  Muses.  He  borrowed  the  idea,  and  the 
language,  from  Milton  in  the  introduction  of  the  "Paradise  Lost" — 

"  I  thence 
Invoke  thy  aid  to  my  adventurous  song, 
That  with  no  middle  flight  intends  to  soar 
Abate  the  Aonian  mount." — Book  I.  13-15. 

310.  Can  justify  his  death,  &c.  :  The  word  justify  must  be  taken  in  quite 
different,  though  well-established,  senses  in  this  and  the  following  line.  The 
passage  may  be  thus  rendered: — Nothing  but  the  guilt  of  man  can  vindicate 
the  death  of  the  innocent  Son  of  God ;  can  furnish  an  adequate  reason,  or 
pretext,  or  occasion  for  it ;  can  make  it  appear  a  fit  sacrifice  on  his  part,  or 
fully  explain  its  occurrence.  Nor  can  guilt  accomplish  this  {not  that)  unless 
his  death  can  justify  relenting  guilt,  Sfc.  :  unless  by  means  of  his  death  the 
relenting  or  penitent  child  of  guilt  may  be  pardoned,  and  treated  as  a  just 
person. 


ISO  THE    COMPLAINT. 

My  name  in  heav'n  with  that  inverted  spear 

(A  spear  deep  dipt  in  blood  !)  which  pierced  his  side,  315 

And  open'd  there  a  font  for  all  mankind, 

Who  strive,  who  combat  crimes,  to  drink  and  live  : 

This,  only  this,  subdues  the  fear  of  death. 

THE    WONDERS    OF    PARDONING    MERCY. 

And  what  is  this  ? — survey  the  wondrous  cure, 
And  at  each  step  let  higher  wonder  rise !  320 

'  Pardon  for  infinite  offence  !  and  pardon 
Through  means  that  speak  its  value  infinite ! 
A  pardon  bought  with  blood  !  with  blood  divine  ! 
"With  blood  divine  of  him  I  made  my  foe ! 
Persisted  to  provoke  !  though  wooed  and  awed,  325 

Blest  and  chastised,  a  flagrant  rebel  still : 
A  rebel  'midst  the  thunders  of  his  throne  ! 
Nor  I  alone  !  a  rebel  universe  ! 
My  species  up  in  arms !  not  one  exempt ! 
Yet  for  the  foulest  of  the  foul  he  dies !  330 

Most  joy'd  for  the  redeem' d  from  deepest  guilt ! 
As  if  our  race  were  held  of  highest  rank, 
And  Godhead  dearer  as  more  kind  to  man !' 

Bound  ev'ry  heart ;  and  ev'ry  bosom  burn ! 
0  what  a  scale  of  miracles  is  here !  335 

Its  lowest  round  high  planted  on  the  skies  : 
Its  tow'ring  summit  lost  beyond  the  thought 
Of  man  or  angel !     0  that  I  could  climb 
The  wonderful  ascent  with  equal  praise ! 

Praise  !  flow  for  ever  (if  astonishment  340 

Will  give  thee  leave)  my  praise ;  for  ever  flow ; 
Praise  ardent,  cordial,  constant,  to  high  heav'n 

320.  Let  higher  wonder,  &c.  :  Some  striking  examples  of  the  climax  are 
here  presented  in  the  following  lines,  each  successive  thought  rising  in 
importance  above  the  preceding,  with  a  very  happy  effect. 

339.  With  equal  praise:  With  praise  corresponding  to  the  elevation  of  tho 
ascent. 


NIGHT    IV.  lfli 

More  fragrant  than  Arabia  sacrificed, 
And  all  her  spicy  mountains  in  a  flame. 

APOSTATE    PRAISE    CALLED    BACK   TO   GOD. 

So  dear,  so  due  to  heav'n,  shall  praise  descend  345 

"With  her  soft  plume  (from  plausive  angels'  wing 
First  pluck'd  by  man)  to  tickle  mortal  ears, 
Thus  diving  in  the  pockets  of  the  great  ? 
Is  praise  the  perquisite  of  ev'ry  paw, 

Though  black  as  hell,  that  grapples  well  for  gold?  350 

0  love  of  gold,  thou  meanest  of  amours ! 
Shall  praise  her  odours  waste  on  virtues  dead ; 
Enbalm  the  base,  perfume  the  stench  of  guilt, 
Earn  dirty  bread  by  washing  Ethiops  fair ; 
Removing  filth,  or  sinking  it  from  sight,  355 

A  scavenger  in  scenes,  where  vacant  posts, 
like  gibbets  yet  untenanted,  expect 
Their  future  ornaments  ?     From  courts  and  thrones 
Return,  apostate  Praise  !  thou  vagabond  ! 
Thou  prostitute  !  to  thy  first  love  return  ;  360 

Thy  first,  thy  greatest,  once  unrivall'd  theme. 

There  flow  redundant,  like  Meander  flow, 
Back  to  thy  fountain,  to  that  parent  pow'r 

343.  Sacrificed :  A  participle  and  not  a  verb.  The  idea  is,  more  fragrant 
than  Arabia  would  be,  if  offered  in  sacrifice. 

345.  Prahe  is  here  personified,  and  represented  as  descending  from  hei 
proper  abode,  heaven,  and  from  offering  her  appropriate  homage  to  the  God 
of  heaven ;  and  with  her  soft  plume,  stolen  from  plausive  (applauding)  angeW 
xciiig.  proceeding  to  tickle  mortal  ears,  the  mortal  ears  of  the  great,  thus  diving 
into  their  pockets.  The  language  in  this  connexion  makes  up  in  graphic 
faithfulness  and  power,  as  a  delineation  of  human  manners,  what  it  lacks  of 
poetic  dignity  and  beauty. 

349.  The  perquisite :  The  lawful  due. 

351.    Of  amours :  Of  loves,  or  objects  of  love. 

354.  Ethiops:  Ethiopians. 

362.  Like  Meander.  &c.  :  This  was  a  winding  river  in  Phrygia,  Asia  Mi- 
nor.    The  word  meander,  to  wind  about,  was  thence  borrowed. 


J  82  THE    COMPLAINT. 

Who  gives  the  tongue  to  sound,  the  thought  to  soar, 

The  soul  to  be.     Men  homage  pay  to  men  :  805 

Thoughtless  beneath  whose  dreadful  eye  they  bow, 

In  mutual  awe  profound,  of  clay  to  clay, 

Of  guilt  to  guilt,  and  turn  their  backs  on  thee, 

Great  Sire  !  whom  thrones  celestial  ceaseless  sing ; 

To  prostrate  angels  an  amazing  scene  !  370 

O  the  presumption  of  man's  awe  for  man ! — 

Man's  Author,  End,  Restorer,  Law,  and  Judge  ! 

Thine  all ;  day  thine,  and  thine  this  gloom  of  night, 

With  all  her  wealth,  with  all  her  radiant  worlds. 

What  night  eternal  but  a  frown  from  thee?  375 

What  heav'n's  meridian  glory  but  thy  smile  ? 

And  shall  not  praise  be  thine,  not  human  praise, 

While  heav'n's  high  host  on  hallelujahs  live  ? 

ADORATION    AND    PRAISE    TO    THE    CREATOR. 

O  may  I  breathe  no  longer  than  I  breathe 
My  soul  in  praise  to  HIM  who  gave  my  soul,  380 

And  all  her  infinite  of  prospect  fair 
Cut  through  the  shades  of  hell,  great  Love  !  by  thee, 
O  most  adorable  !  most  unadored  ! 
Where  shall  that  praise  begin  which  ne'er  shall  end  ? 

369.  Thrones  celestial:  The  angelic  orders,  represented  here  as  singing 
ceaselessly  to  the  praise  of  their  Creator.  The  term  is  a  Scriptural  one.  and 
is  applied  to  angels  on  account  of  the  elevated  rank  and  power  .which  they 
possess,  compared  with  other  created  beings.  See  Coloss.  1  :  1G — "  whether 
thrones,  or  dominions,  or  principalities,  or  powers ;  all  things  were  created  by 
him  and  for  him"  (Christ) . 

This  term  is  very  often  applied  to  angels  by  the  great  Epic  poets.  Thus 
Par.  Lost,  Bk.  V.  600. 

"Hear  all  ye  angels,  progeny  of  li^lit, 
Ttirones,  Dominations,  Princedoms,  Virtues.  Powers." 

370.  An  amazing  scene:  Namely,  the  homage  which  men  pay  to  men, 
turning  their  backs  on  Him  whom  angels  perpetually  praise. 

382.  Cut  through,  &c.  :  An  original  and  impressive  thought  is  here  beau- 
tifully expressed.  In  the  next  line  how  striking  the  contrast,  most  adorable, 
most  unadored  J 


NIGHT    IV.  183 

Where'er  I  turn,  what  claim  on  all  applause!  385 

How  is  Night's  sable  mantle  labour'd  o'er, 

How  richly  wrought  with  attributes  divine  ! 

What  wisdom  shines  !  what  love  !     This  midnight  pomp, 

This  gorgeous  arch,  with  golden  worlds  inlaid  ! 

Built  with  divine  ambition  !  nought  to  thee  ;  390 

For  others  this  profusion.     Thou,  apart, 

Above,  beyond,  O  tell  me,  mighty  Mind  ! 

Where  art  thou  ?  shall  I  dive  into  the  deep  ? 

Call  to  the  sun  ?  or  ask  the  roaring  winds 

For  their  Creator  ?     Shall  I  question  loud  395 

The  thunder,  if  in  that  th'  Almighty  dwells? 

Or  holds  HE  furious  storms  in  straiten'd  reins, 

And  bids  fierce  whirlwinds  wheel  his  rapid  car  ? 

What  mean  these  questions  ? — Trembling  I  retract ; 
My  prostrate  soul  adores  the  present  God :  400 

Praise  I  a  distant  Deity  !     He  tunes 
My  voice  (if  tuned :)  the  nerve  that  writes  sustains : 
Wrapp'd  in  his  being  I  resound  his  praise : 
But  though  past  all  diffused,  without  a  shore 
His  essence,  local  is  His  throne  (as  meet)  405 

To  gather  the  dispers'd  (as  standards  call 
The  listed  from  afar ;)  to  fix  a  point, 
A  central  point,  collective  of  his  sons, 
Since  finite  ev'ry  nature  but  his  own. 

The  nameless  HE,  whose  nod  is  Nature's  birth  :  410 

And  Nature's  shield  the  shadow  of  his  hand ; 
Her  dissolution,  his  suspended  smile  ! 
The  great  First-Last !  pavilion'd  high  he  sits 
In  darkness  from  excessive  splendour,  borne, 
By  gods  unseen,  unless  through  lustre  lost.  4 1  > 

His  glory,  to  created  glory  bright 
As  that  to  central  horrors  :  he  looks  clown 

404.  Past  all  diffused:  Diffused  beyond  all  objects  in  creation. 
410.  7s  (the  origin  of)   Nature' s  birth.     414-16.  In  darkness  borne  (born 
•riginated)  from  excessive  splendour;  unseen  by  gods  (angels),  unless  th-ouzK 


184  THE    COMPLAINT. 

On  all  that  soars,  and  spans  immensity. 

Though  night  unuumber'cl  worlds  unfolds  to  view, 
Boundless  Creation  !  what  art  thou?     A  beam,  420 

A  mere  effluvium  of  his  majesty. 
And  shall  an  atom  of  this  atom-world 
Mutter,  in  dust  and  sin,  the  theme  of  heav'n  ? 
Down  to  the  centre  should  I  send  my  thought, 
Through  beds  of  glitt'ring  ore  and  glowing  gems,  425 

Their  beggar'd  blaze  wants  lustre  for  my  lay  ; 
Goes  out  in  darkness :  if,  on  tow'ring  wing, 
I  send  it  through  the  boundless  vault  of  stars, 
(The  stars,  tho'  rich,  what  dross  their  gold  to  Thee, 
Great,  good,  wise,  wonderful,  eternal  King  !)  430 

If  to  those  conscious  stars  thy  throne  around, 
Praise  ever-pouring,  and  imbibing  bliss, 
And  ask  then  strain ;  they  want  it,  more  they  want, 
Poor  their  abundance,  humble  their  sublime, 
Languid  their  energy,  then  ardour  cold  :  435 

Indebted  still,  their  highest  rapture  burns 
Short  of  its  mark,  defective,  though  divine. 

THE    PRAISE    OF   REDEMPTION    MORE    APPROPRIATE    TO    MAN    THAN 
TO    ANGELS. 

Still  more — this  theme  is  man's,  and  man's  alone ; 
Their  vast  appointments  reach  it  not ;  they  see 
On  earth  a  bounty  not  indulg'd  on  high,  440 

And  downward  look  for  heav'n's  superior  praise  ! 
First-born  of  Ether  !  high  in  fields  of  light ! 

(in  consequence  of)  lustre  lost    (obscured)  as  by  the  incarnation: — '"God 
manifest  in  the  flesh — seen  of  angels."    1  Tim.  iii.  15.     His  glory,  compared 
to  created  glory  is  bright,  as  that  is  bright,  compared  to  the  gloomy  darkness 
of  the  interior  of  the  earth.     431.  Conscious  stars:  Angelic  intelligences. 
438.  7s  ?nan'S  :  Is  appropriate  to  man. 

441.  For  Heaven's  superior  praise :  For  the  highest  grounds  of  the  praise 
which  they  pay  to  God  in  heaven. 

442.  Ether:  Heaven.     It  literally  denotes  a  form  of  matter  more  subtile, 
-r  'bin,  than  ihe  atmosphere 


NIGHT    IV.  I8i> 

View  man  to  see  the  glory  of  your  God  ! 

Could  angels  envy,  they  had  envied  here  :' 

And  some  did  envy  :  and  the  test,  though  gods,  445 

Yet  still  gods  unredeem'd  (there  triumphs  man, 

Tempted  to  weigh  the  dust  against  the  skies.) 

They  less  would  feel,  though  more  adorn  my  theme. 

They  sung  creation  (for  in  that  they  shared ;) 

How  rose  in  melody  that  child  of  Love !  450 

Creation's  great  superior,  man  !  is  thine  ; 

Thine  is  Redemption  ;  they  just  gave  the  key, 

'Tis  thine  to  raise  and  eternize  the  song, 

Though  human,  yet  divine ;  for  should  not  this 

Raise  man  o'er  man,  and  kindle  seraphs  here?  455 

Redemption  !  'twas  creation  more  sublime ; 

Redemption !  'twas  the  labour  of  the  skies  : 

Far  more  than  labour — it  was  death  in  heav'n, 

A  truth  so  strange,  'twere  bold  to  think  it  true, 

If  not  far  bolder  still,  to  disbelieve.  460 

Here  pause  and  ponder.     Was  there  death  in  heav'n  ? 
What  then  on  earth  ?  on  earth,  which  struck  the  blow  ? 
Who  struck  it  ?     Who? — 0  how  is. man  enlarged, 

445.  Though  gods :  This  is  an  obvious  instance  in  which  our  author  uses 
the  terms  gods  and  angels  as  synonymous. 

449.  They  sung  creation  :  They  celebrated  the  praise  of  God  for  his  crea- 
tive acts.  They  shared  in  creation  only  as  spectators  and  admirers.  Milton, 
in  his  Hymn  to  the  Nativity,  compares  the  music  of  the  angels  at  that  event 
with  the  music  of  the  same  beings  when  the  work  of  creation,  that  child  of 
love,  was  finished. 

"  Such  music  (as  "tis  said) 
Before  was  never  made, 

But  when  of  old  the  sons  of  morning  sung, 
While  the  Creator  great 
His  constellations  set 
And  the  well-balanced  world  on  hinges  hung.'' 

451.   Creation's  great  superior  :  That  is,  redemption. 

455.  Kindle  seraphs  :  Cause  men  to  become  ardent  as  seraphs.  This  word 
comes  from  one  in  the  Hebrew  which  signifies  "  to  burn." 

"  As  the  rapt  seraph  that  adore*  and  ourne.~ — Pope. 


!  Srt  TI1K    COMPLAINT. 

Seen  through  this  medium  :  How  the  pigmy  tow'rs  ! 

How  counterpoised  his  origin  from  dust !  405 

How  counterpoised  to  dust  his  sad  return  ! 

How  voided  his  vast  distance  from  the  skies  ! 

How  near  he  presses  on  the  seraph's  wing  ! 

Which  is  the  seraph  ?     Which  the  born  of  clay  ? 

How  this  demonstrates,  through  the  thickest  cloud  470 

Of  guilt  and  clay  condensed,  the  Son  of  Heav'n ; 

The  double  Son  ;  the  made,  and  the  re-made  ! 

And  shall  heav'n's  double  property  be  lost  ? 

Man's  double  madness  only  can  destroy. 

To  man  the  bleeding  Cross  has  promised  all ;  475 

The  bleeding  Cross  has  sworn  eternal  grace. 

Who  gave  his  life,  what  grace  shall  he  deny  ? 

O  ye,  who  from  this  rock  of  ages  leap, 

Apostates,  plunging  headlong  in  the  deep  ! 

What  cordial  joy,  what  consolation  strong,  480 

Whatever  winds  arise,  or  billows  roll, 

Our  int'rest  in  the  Master  of  the  storm ! 

Cling  there,  and  in  wreck'd  Nature's  ruin  smile, 

While  vile  apostates  tremble  in  a  calm. 

THE    GRANDEUR    OF    HUMAN    NATURE. 

Man,  know  thyself:  all  wisdom  centres  there.  485 

To  none  man  seems  ignoble  but  to  man. 
Angels  that  grandeur,  men  o'erlook,  admire  : 
How  long  shall  human  nature  be  their  book, 
Degen'rate  mortal !  and  unread  by  thee  ? 

465.   Counterpoised:  Balanced  by  an  opposing  weight — redemption.     This 
event  is  an  offset  to  his  humble  origin  from  dust,  and  his  sad  return  to  dust. 

It  also  voids  (465) ,  or  reduces  to  nothing,  his  vast  distance  from  the  skies. 

473.  Double  property :  Redeemed  man  is  doubly  the  property  of  God,  by 
creation  at  first,  and  again  by  regeneration. 

482.  Master  of  the  storm  :  An  allusion  to  the  beautiful  incident  which  oc 
curred  on  the  sea  of  Galilee. 

487.  Men  overlook:  Which  men  o'erlook 


NIGHT    IV.  187 

The  beam  dim  reason  sheds  shows  wonders  there  :  490 

"What  high  contents !  illustrious  faculties  ! 
But  the  grand  comment,  which  displays  at  full 
Our  human  height,  scarce  sever'd  from  divine, 
By  lloav'n  composed,  was  publish'd  on  the  Cross. 

Who  looks  on  that,  and  sees  not  in  himself  495 

An  awful  stranger,  a  terrestrial  God  ? 
A  glorious  partner  with  the  Deity 
In  that  high  attribute,  immortal  life  ? 
If  a  god  bleeds,  he  bleeds  not  for  a  worm. 
I  gaze,  raid  as  I  gaze  my  mounting  soul  500 

Catches  strange  fire,  Eternity  !  at  thee, 
And  drops  the  world — or,  rather,  more  enjoys. 
How  changed  the  face  of  Nature  !  how  improved  ! 
What  seem'd  a  chaos,  shines  a  glorious  world, 
Or,  what  a  world,  an  Eden  ;  heigh ten'd  all !  505 

It  is  another  scene,  another  self! 
And  still  another,  as  time  rolls  along, 
And  that  a  self  far  more  illustrious  still. 
Beyond  long  ages,  yet  roll'd  up  in  shades 
Unpierced  by  bold  conjecture's  keenest  ray,  510 

What  evolutions  of  surprising  fate  ! 
How  Nature  opens,  and  receives  my  soul 
In  boundless  walks  of  raptured  thought !  where  gods 
Encounter  and  embrace  me !     What  new  births 
Of  strange  adventure,  foreign  to  the  sun  ;  51/> 

Where  what  now  charms,  perhaps  whate'er  exists, 
Old  Time,  and  fair  Creation,  are  forgot  ? 

Is  this  extravagant  ?  of  man  we  form 
Extravagant  conceptions  to  be  just : 

Conception  unconfined  wants  wings  to  reach  him;  520 

Beyond  its  reach  the  Godhead  only  more. 

494.  On  the  Cross  :  The  cross,  or  sufferings,  of  Christ,  publish  to  the  uni- 
verse the  grandeur  of  human  nature,  as  nothing  else  does. 

5'21.  Godhead  only  more:  The  Godhead  only  is  more  beyond  the  reach 
even  of  our  unconfined  and  widest  conception  than  man  is.  in  his  future 
beins- 


188  THE    COMPLAINT. 

He,  the  great  Father !  kindled  at  one  flame 

The  world  of  rationals  :  one  spirit  pour'd 

From  spirit's  awful  fountain  ;  pour'd  himself 

Through  all  their  souls,  but  not  an  equal  stream ;  525 

523-531.  One  spirit  poured,  &c.  .  Our  author  is  here  rather  obscure,  or 
indulges  in  unwarrantably  bold  figures  of  speech.  He  means  nothing  more 
perhaps  than  that  God  diffused  his  own  rationality,  or  imparted  a  rational 
nature  like  his  own,  to  the  world  of  rationals,  to  all  rational  beings;  but  what 
he  means  (527-30)  when,  after  a  season  of  trial,  should  they  continue  as  they 
were  made,  they  shall  be  resorbed  into  himself  again,  is  not  so  plain,  or  so 
easily  assented  to.  It  seems  too  much  like  confounding  the  god-head  and 
}  is  rational  offspring.  There  is  another  objection  to  this  passage.  If  the 
rationals  are  re-absorbed  into,  or  swallowed  up  again  by,  Deity,  how  can  his 
throne  be  their  centre,  and  his  smile  their  crown  (531)? 

There  is  too  much  similarity  in  the  language  of  our  author  in  this  entire 
passage  to  the  Pagan  doctrine  of  the  animus  mimdi — the  doctrine  that  God 
is  the  send  of  the  world — that  God  is  all  things,  and  all  things  God — that  he 
animates  the  universe  as  the  human  soul  the  human  body ;  and  hence  he 
ought  to  be  worshipped  in  all  the  parts  and  objects  of  nature.  This  doc- 
trine is  beautifully  expressed  in  the  lines  of  Pope;  although  they  are  sus- 
ceptible of  an  interpretation  consistent  with  just  views  of  the  divine  omni- 
potence and  universal  agency,  a  subject  upon  which  it  is  difficult  to  write 
impressively  or  even  intelligibly  without  the  use  of  highly  figurative  lan- 
guage.    The  sacred  writers  themselves  employ  it. 

"  All  are  but  parts  of  one  stupendous  whole 
Whose  body  Nature  is,  and  God  the  soul ; 
That  changed  through  all,  and  yet  in  all  the  same, 
Great  in  the  eartli  as  in  the  ethereal  flame; 
Warms  in  the  sun,  refreshes  in  the  breeze, 
Glows  in  the  stars,  and  blossoms  in  the  trees ; 
Lives  through  all  life,  extends  through  all  extent, 
Spreads  undivided,  operates  unspent" 

"  With  the  doctrine  of  the  animus  mundi  (says  Dugald  Stewart)  some  phi- 
losophers, both  ancient  and  modern,  have  connected  another  theory,  accord 
ing  to  which  the  souls  of  men  are  portions  of  the  Supreme  Being,  with  whom 
they  are  re-united  at  death,  and  in  whom  they  are  finally  absorbed  and  lost. 
To  assist  the  imagination  in  conceiving  this  theory,  death  has  been  com- 
pared to  the  breaking  of  a  vial  of  water,  immersed  in  the  ocean.  It  is 
needless  to  say  that  this  incomprehensible  jargon  has  no  necessary  connexion 
with  the  doctrine  which  represents  God  as  the  soul  of  the  world,  and  that  it 
would  have  been  loudly  disclaimed,  not  only  by  Pope  and  Thomson,  but  by 
Epictetus,  Antoninus,  and  all  the  wisest  and  soberest  of  the  Stoical  school." 

Sir  William  Jones  (says  the  same  author)  mentions  a  very  curious  modi 


NIGHT    IV.  180 

Profuse,  or  frugal,  of  th'  inspiring  God, 

As  his  wise  plan  demanded  ;  and  when  past 

Their  various  trials,  in  their  various  spheres, 

If  they  continue  rational,  as  made, 

Resorbs  them  all  into  himself  again,  530 

His  throne  their  centre,  and  his  smile  then  crown. 

ANGELS    AND    MEN    COMPARED. 

Why  doubt  we,  then,  the  glorious  truth  to  sing, 
Though  yet  unsung,  as  deem'd,  perhaps,  too  bold  ? 
Angels  are  men  of  a  superior  kind  ; 

Angels  are  men  in  lighter  habit  clad,  535 

High  o'er  celestial  mountains  wing'd  in  flight ; 
And  men  are  angels,  loaded  for  an  hour, 
Who  wade  this  miry  vale,  and  climb  with  pain, 
And  slipp'ry  step,  the  bottom  of  the  steep. 
Angels  their  failings,  mortals  have  their  praise  ;  540 

fication  of  this  theory  of  absorption,  as  one  of  the  doctrines  of  the  Vedanta 
school.  "  The  Vedanta  school  represents  Ehjsian  happiness  as  a  total  ab- 
sorption, though  not  such  as  to  destroy  consciousness,  in  the  divine  essence." — 
Stewart's  Works,  vol.  vi.  280. 

In  further  elucidation  of  this  subject,  we  may  add  that  Seneca,  an  eminent 
philosopher  of  the  Stoical  school,  regarded  human  beings  as  parts  of  the  Di- 
vinity— "  Quid  est  autem,  cur  non  existimes  in  eo  divini  aliquid  existere,  qui 
Dei  pars  est?  Totum  hoc  quo  continemtir,  et  unum  est  et  Deus;  et  socii 
ejus  sumus  et  membra."  Epictetus  taught  that  "  man  is  a  distinct  portion 
of  the  Divine  essence,  and  contains  a  part  of  God  in  himself." — (Miss  Car- 
ter's translation,  Bk.  II.  ch.  8,  sec.  2) .  Antoninus  represents  the  soul  as  an 
efflux  or  emanation  from  the  governor  of  the  world. — Lib.  II.  sec.  4.  And 
on  the  principle  that  the  Deity  is  the  soul  of  the  world  he  addresses  his 
prayer  to  the  world. — Lib.  IV.  sec.  23. — Dewars  Mor.  Philos.  vol.  II.  507. 

Dr.  Leland  in  his  work  on  the  Christian  Revelation  quotes  Cicero,  in  his 
Academics,  as  giving  this  representation  of  the  sentiments  of  the  Stoics; 
that  they  held  that  "  this  world  is  wise,  and  hath  a  mind  or  soul,  whereby 
it  formed  or  fabricated  both  it  and  itself,  and  ordereth,  moveth,  and  govern- 
eth  all  things:  and  that  the  sun,  moon,  and  stars  are  gods,  beoause  a  certain 
animal  intelligence  pervadeth  and  passeth  through  all  things." — Cic.  Acad. 
Lib.  II.  cap.  37. 

540.  Angels  their  failings :  As  Eliphaz,  the  friend  of  Job,  had  affirmed : — 
"  Shall  mortal  man  be  more  just  than  God ;  shall  a  man  be  more  pure  thac 


190  iHK    COMPLAINT. 

While  here,  of  corps  ethereal,  such  enroll'd, 

And  summon'd  to  the  glorious  standard  soon, 

Which  flames  eternal  crimson  through  the  skies : 

Nor  are  our  brothers  thoughtless  of  their  kin, 

Yet  absent ;  but  not  absent  from  their  love.  545 

Michael  has  fought  our  battles ;  Raphael  sung 

Our  triumphs ;  Gabriel  on  our  errands  flown, 

Sent  by  the  Sov'reign  :  and  are  these,  O  man, 

Thy  friends,  thy  warm  allies  ?  and  thou  (shame  burn 

Thy  cheek  to  cinder  !)  rival  to  the  brute  ?  550 

religion's   all. 
Religion's  all.     Descending  from  the  skies 

his  Maker?  Behold  he  put  no  trust  in  his  servants;  and  his  angels  he 
charged  with  folly,"  or  frailty.  The  meaning  is,  that  even  the  angels  are,  in 
their  moral  perfection,  altogether  inferior  to  God  their  Maker. 

Mortals  have  their  praise  :  Have  qualities  worthy  of  praise.  In  the  last  of 
our  author's  published  poems,  ''Resignation."  he  has  a  stanza  which  may 
be  adduced  to  qualify  what  he  may  elsewhere  have  expressed  in  regard  to 
human  merit. 

"  Of  human  nature  ne'er  too  high 
Are  our  ideas  wrought ; 
Of  human  merit  ne'er  too  low 
Depress'd  the  daring  thought." 

541.  Of  corps  ethereal,  surh  enroll1  d :  A  military  allusion.  Mortals  while 
on  earth  have  their  names  registered  upon  the  roll  of  ethereal  or  heavenly 
soldiery. 

545.   Yet  absent  from  them  (the  angels) . 

546  Michael  has  fought,  &c.  :  See  Rev.  12  :  7.  "Michael  and  his  angels 
fought  against  the  dragon." 

Raphael  sung,  &c.  :  This  angel  is  not  mentioned  in  the  canonical  Scrip- 
tures, but  we  find  him  in  the  apocryphal  book  of  Tobit,  and,  together  with 
Michael  and  Gabriel,  he  figures  most  largely  in  ''Paradise  Lost." 

547.  Gabriel  on  our  errands,  &c.  :  Daniel  the  prophet  says :  "  while  I  was 
speaking  in  prayer,  even  the  man  Gabriel,  whom  I  had  seen  in  the  vision 
at  the  beginning,  being  caused  to  fly  swiftly,  touched  me,  &c.  :  See  Dan. 
ix.  21-2.  See  the  Gospel  of  Luke  i.  19,  26.  "  The  angel  said,  I  am  Gabriel 
that  stand  in  the  presence  of  God ;  and  am  sent  to  speak  unto  thee  and  to 
show  thee.  &c." 


(TIGHT    IV.  191 

To  wretched  man,  the  goddess  in  her  left 

Ilolds  out  this  world,  and  in  her  right  the  next. 

Religion  !  the  sole  voucher  man  is  man  ; 

Supporter  sole  of  man  above  himself;  555 

E'en  in  this  night  of  frailty,  change,  and  death, 

She  gives  the  soul  a  soul  that  acts  a  god. 

Religion  !  Providence  !  an  after-state  ! 

Here  is  firm  footing ;  here  is  solid  rock  ; 

This  can  support  us  ;  all  is  sea  besides :  560 

Sinks  under  us  ;  bestorms,  and  then  devours. 

His  hand  the  good  man  fastens  on  the  skies, 

And  bids  earth  roll,  nor  feels  her  idle  whirl. 

As  when  a  wretch,  from  thick  polluted  air, 
Darkness,  and  stench,  and  suffocating  damps,  565 

And  dungeon-horrors,  by  kind  fate  discharged, 
Climbs  some  fair  eminence,  where  ether  pure 
Surrounds  him,  and  Elysian  prospects  rise, 
His  heart  exults,  his  spirits  cast  their  load, 
As  if  new  born  he  triumphs  in  the  change !  570 

So  joys  the  soul,  when  from  inglorious  aims 
And  sordid  sweets,  from  feculence  and  froth 
Of  ties  terrestrial,  set  at  large,  she  mounts 
To  Reason's  region,  her  own  element, 
Breathes  hopes  immortal,  and  affects  the  skies.  275 

DEVOUT  ADDRESS  TO  THE  REDEEMER. 

Religion  !  thou  the  soul  of  happiness, 

554.  The  sole  voucher,  &c. :  The  sole  voucher,  or  evidence,  that  man  is 
man  :  that  he  is  a  being  of  immortal  dignity.  Religion  is  also  the  sole  sup- 
porter of  man  above  himself:  she  lifts  him  higher  than  he  would  otherwise 
attain;  she  raises  him  to  the  condition  of  angelic  dignity  and  bliss.  Com- 
pare (5-37) . 

561.  Bestorms:  Involves  us  in  its  storms.  The  sentiment  in  the  next  two 
lines  awakens  the  feelings  of  sublimity 

575.  Jjfccts  the  skies :  Aspires  to  the  enjoyments  of  heaven. 

576.  The  soul  of  happiness :  Religion  is  the  vital  principle  of  happiness, 
that  without  which  it  cannot  exist. 


19*J  THE    C'li.Ml'I.AlN'l. 

And,  groaning  Calvary,  of  thee,  there  shine 

T he  noblest  truths  ;  there  strongest  motives  sting ; 

There  sacred  violence  assaults  the  soul ; 

There  nothing  but  compulsion  is  forborne.  580 

Can  love  allure  us  ?  or  can  terror  awe  ? 

He  weeps  ! — the  falling  drop  puts  out  the  sun. 

He  sighs  ! — the  sigh  earth's  deep  foundation  shakes. 

If  in  his  love  so  terrible,  what  then 

His  wrath  inflamed  2     His  tenderness  on  fire?  585 

Like  soft  smooth  oil,  outblazing  other  fires  ? 

Can  pray'r,  can  j>raise,  avert  it  ? — Thou,  my  all ! 

My  theme  !  my  inspiration  !  and  my  crown  ! 

My  strength  in  age  !  my  rise  in  low  estate  ! 

My  soul's  ambition,  pleasure,  wealth  !  my  world  ?  590 

My  light  in  darkness  !  and  my  life  in  death  ! 

My  boast  through  time  !  bliss  through  eternity ! 

Eternity,  too  short  to  speak  thy  praise, 

Or  fathom  thy  profound  of  love  to  man ! 

To  man  of  men  the  meanest,  ev'n  to  me ;  595 

My  sacrifice !  my  God ! — what  things  are  these ! 

What  then  avt  Thou  ?     By  what  name  shall  I  call  Thee  ? 
Knew  I  the  name  devout  archangels  use, 
Devout  archangels  should  the  name  enjoy, 
By  me  unrivall'd  ;  thousands  more  sublime,  GOO 

None  half  so  dear  as  that  which  though  unspoke, 
Still  glows  at  heart.     0  how  Omnipotence 
Is  lost  in  love  !  thou  great  Philanthropist ! 
Father  of  angels  !  but  the  friend  of  man  ! 
Like  Jacob,  fondest  of  the  younger  born  !  005 

577.  Of  thee:  The  soul  of  thee,  groaning  Calvary!  It  is  the  religious 
aspect  of  the  Cross  that  constitutes  its  principal  attraction  and  power.  Thi? 
is  shown  in  the  lines  that  follow. 

582.  He  weeps  :  The  reference,  most  obviously,  is  to  Christ. 

587.  Thou,  mxj  all!  How  exquisitely  beautiful  and  affectionate  is  the  ex- 
pansion or  illustration  of  this  sentiment  in  the  following  lines  (588-595 ) 

594.  Profound  of  love:  Great  depth  of  love. 

595.  To  man  of  men  the  meanest :  To  the  meanest  man  of  men. 


WIGHT    IV.  193 

Thou  who  didst  save  him,  snatch  the  smoking  brand 

From  out  the  flames,  and  quench  it  in  thy  blood  ! 

How  art  thou  pleased  by  bounty  to  distress  ! 

To  make  us  groan  beneath  our  gratitude, 

Too  big  for  birth !  to  favour  and  confound  !  610 

To  challenge,  and  to  distance  all  return ! 

Of  lavish  love  stupendous  heights  to  soar, 

And  leave  praise  panting  in  the  distant  vale  ! 

Thy  right,  too  great,  defrauds  thee  of  thy  due ; 

And  sacrilegious  our  sublimest  song !  615 

But  since  the  naked  will  obtains  thy  smile, 

Beneath  this  monument  of  praise  unpaid, 

And  future  life  symphonious  to  my  strain, 

(That  noblest  hymn  to  heav'n  !)  for  ever  he 

Entomb'd  my  fear  of  death  !  and  ev'ry  fear,  620 

The  dread  of  ev'ry  evil  but  Thy  frown. 

LUKEWARM    DEVOTION,    UNDEVOUT. 

Whom  see  I  yonder  so  demurely  smile  ? 
Laughter  a  labour,  and  might  break  their  rest. 
Ye  Quietists,  in  homage  to  the  skies  ! 

606.  Him :  The  younger-born  (605) ,  man  ;  the  angels  being  the  elder,  of 
whom  those  "who  kept  not  their  first  estate"  were  suffered  to  perish  in  the 
flames  of  perdition. 

610.  To  favour,  &c.  :  How  art  thou  pleased  (60S)  to  favour  and  confound; 
so  to  favour,  as  to  confound  by  the  greatness  and  number  of  the  gifts  be- 
stowed. 

611.  His  favours  challenge,  but  are  so  great  as  to  distance,  all  return;  that 
is  to  preclude  a  full  and  sufficient  return  on  the  part  of  man. 

614.  Thy  right,  too  great,  &c  :  Thy  right  being  too  great  to  be  suitably 
praised  by  men,  &c. 

617-18.  BentAth  this  monument,  &c.  :  Beneath  this  monument,  bearing 
the  confession  of  praise  unpaid,  and  beneath  a  life  in  future  symphonious  (cor- 
responding) to  my  strain,  that  is,  devoted  to  the  Redeemer. 

623.  And  might  break,  &c. :  Laughter  being  a  labour,  and,  that  which  might 
break  their  rest. 

6'-'4.  Ye  Quiittsrs  :  Reference  is  here  made  to  those  cold-hearted  frozen  for- 
Q 


104  THE    COMPLAINT. 

Serene !  of  soft  address !  who  mildly  make  625 

An  unobtrusive  tender  of  your  hearts, 
Abhorring  violence  !  who  halt  indeed, 
But,  for  the  blessing,  wrestle  not  with  Heav'n  ! 
Think  you  my  song  too  turbulent  ?  too  warm  ? 
Are  passions,  then,  the  pagans  of  the  soul  ?  630 

Reason  alone  baptized  !  alone  ordain' d 
To  touch  things  sacred  ?     Oh  for  warmer  still ! 
Guilt  chills  my  zeal,  and  age  benumbs  my  pow'rs  : 
Oh  for  a  humbler  heart  and  prouder  song  ! 
Thou,  my  much-injured  theme !  with  that  soft  eye  635 

Which  melted  o'er  doom'd  Salem,  deign  to  look 
Compassion  to  the  coldness  of  my  breast, 
And  pardon  to  the  winter  in  my  strain. 
O  ye  cold-hearted  frozen  formalists  ! 
On  such  a  theme  'tis  impious  to  be  calm ;  640 

Passion  is  reason,  transport  temper,  here. 
Shall  Heav'n,  which  gave  us  ardour,  and  has  shown 
Her  own  for  man  so  strongly,  not  disdain 
What  smooth  emollients  in  theology, 

Recumbent  virtue's  downy  doctors  preach,  645 

That  prose  of  piety,  a  lukewarm  praise  ? 
Rise  odours  sweet  from  incense  uninflamed  ? 
Devotion,  when  lukewarm,  is  undevout ; 
But  when  it  glows,  its  heat  is  struck  to  heav'n ; 
To  human  hearts  her  golden  harps  are  strung;  650 

High  heav'n's  orchestra  chants  Jkien  to  man. 

malists  (639)  who  esteem  it  a  great  merit  to  be  so  governed  by  reason  (631) 
as  to  be  entirely  devoid  of  emotion  with  regard  to  religious  interests. 

627.  Who  halt  indeed,  &c.  :  A  sarcastic  description  of  the  defective  piety 
of  those  he  is  addressing ;  the  language  being  borrowed  from  the  account  of 
Jacob  (Gen.  32  :  24 — 28) .  In  wrestling  with  the  angel  the  patriarch  was 
disabled  by  the  dislocation  of  his  thigh,  in  consequence  of  which  he  halted, 
or  limped,  in  his  walk. 

634 .  Prouder  song :  Loftier  song. 
641.  Temper:  Moderation. 


NIGHT  IV.  195 


LOXGIXG  FOR  DEATH. 


Hear  I,  or  dream  I  hear,  their  distant  strain, 
Sweet  to  the  soul,  and  tasting  strong  of  heav'n, 
Soft  wafted  on  celestial  Pity's  plume, 

Through  the  vast  spaces  of  the  universe  655 

To  cheer  me  in  this  melancholy  gloom  ? 
Oh  when  will  death  (now  stingless)  like  a  friend, 
Admit  me  of  their  choir  !     Oh  when  will  death 
This  mould'ring  old  partition-wall  throw  down  ? 
Give  beings,  one  in  nature,  one  abode  ?  060 

O  death  divine  !  that  giv'st  us  to  the  skies ! 
Great  future  !  glorious  patron  of  the  past 
And  present,  when  shall  I  thy  shrine  adore  ? 
From  Nature's  continent  immensely  wide, 
Immensely  blest,  this  little  isle  of  life,  665 

This  dark  incarcerating  colony 
Divides  us.     Happy  day  that  breaks  our  chain ! 
That  manumits  ;  that  calls  from  exile  home  ; 
That  leads  to  Nature's  great  metropolis, 

And  re-admits  us,  through  the  guardian  hand  670 

Of  elder  brothers,  to  our  Father's  throne, 
Who  hears  our  advocate,  and  through  his  wotmds 
Beholding  man,  allows  that  tender  name. 
'Tis  this  makes  Christian  triumph  a  command ; 
'Tis  this  makes  joy  a  duty  to  the  wise.  675 

'Tis  impious  in  a  good  man  to  be  sad. 

THE    TOUCH    OF    THE    CROSS. 

Seest  thou,  Lorenzo,  where  hangs  all  our  hope ! 
Touch'd  by  the  cross  we  live,  or  more  than  die ; 

652.  Bream  I  hear :  Do  I  dream  that  I  hear  ? 

658.   Of  their  choir  :  A  member  of  their  choir. 

C69.  Metropolis:  Heaven. 

GTS.  The  cross  becomes  to  us  either  an  instrument  of  everlasting  life,  or 
the  occasion  of  a  doom  that  is  more  severe  than  death,  or  the  dissolution  of 
the  body. 


106  THE    COMPLAINT. 

That  touch  which  touch'd  not  angels  ;  more  divine 

Than  that  which  touch'd  confusion  into  form,  G80 

And  darkness  into  glory  :  partial  touch  ! 

Ineffably  pre-eminent  regard ! 

Sacred  to  man,  and  sov'reign  through  the  whole 

Long  golden  chain  of  miracles,  which  hangs 

From  heav'n  through  all  duration,  and  supports,  G85 

In  one  illustrious  and  amazing  plan, 

Thy  welfare,  Nature,  and  thy  God's  renown  ; 

That  touch,  with  charm  celestial,  heals  the  soul 

Diseased,  drives  pain  from  guilt,  lights  life  in  death, 

Turns  earth  to  heav'n,  to  hoav'nly  thrones  transforms  090 

The  ghastly  ruins  of  the  mould'ring  tomb. 

THE    SECOND    ADVENT. 

Dost  ask  me  when  ?     When  He  who  died  returns  ; 
Returns,  how  changed  !  where  then  the  man  of  wo  ? 
In  glory's  terrors  all  the  Godhead  burns, 

And  all  his  courts,  exhausted  by  the  tide  695 

Of  deities  triumphant  in  his  train, 
Leave  a  stupendous  solitude  in  heav'n  ; 
Replenish'd  soon,  replenish'd  with  increase 
Of  pomp  and  multitude  ;  a  radiant  band 
Of  angels  new,  of  angels  from  the  tomb.  700 

Is  this  by  fancy  thrown  remote  ?  and  rise 
Dark  doubts  between  the  promise  and  event  ? 
I  send  thee  not  to  volumes  for  thy  cure ; 
Read  Nature  ;  Nature  is  a  friend  to  truth  ; 
Nature  is  Christian;  preaches  to  mankind,  70S 

681 .  Partial  touch :  That  touch  (by  the  cross)  which  was  confined  to 
man  (sacred  to  mant  683)  and  did  not  extend  to  angels. 

690-1.  To  heavily  thrones,  &c.  :  To  heavenly  forms  of  a  high  order,  cor- 
responding to  angels  (700),  changes  the  ghastly  bodies  of  buried  saints. 
Compare  note  on  390. 

692.  Returns:  From  heaven. 

705.  Nature  is  Christian :  Is  accordant  with  Christianity  in  reference  to 
this  point.     The  comet,  in  her  erratic  flight,  and  ampler  round  yet  sure  return. 


NIGHT    1\'.  191 

And  bids  dead  matter  aid  us  in  our  creed. 

Hast  thou  ne'er  seen  the  comet's  flaming  flight  ? 

TV  illustrious  stranger  passing,  terror  sheds 

On  gazing  nations  from  his  fiery  train 

Of  length  enormous,  takes  his  ample  round  710 

Thro'  depths  of  ether ;  coasts  unnumber'd  worlds, 

Of  more  than  solar  glory  :  doubles  wide 

Heav'n's  mighty  cape  ;  and  then  revisits  earth, 

From  the  long  travel  of  a  thousand  years. 

Thus,  at  the  destined  period,  shall  return  715 

He,  once  on  earth,  who  bids  the  comet  blaze  ; 

And,  with  him,  all  our  triumph  o'er  the  tomb. 

Nature  is  dumb  on  this  important  point, 
Or  Hope  precarious  in  low  whisper  breathes  : 
Faith  speaks  aloud,  distinct ;  ev'n  adders  hear,  720 

But  turn,  and  dart  into  the  dark  again. 
Faith  builds  a  bridge  across  the  gulf  of  Death, 
To  break  the  shock  blind  Nature  cannot  shun, 
And  lands  Thought  smoothly  on  the  farther  shore. 
Death's  terror  is  the  mountain  Faith  removes,  725 

That  mountain-barrier  between  man  and  peace. 
'Tis  Faith  disarms  Destruction,  and  absolves 
From  ev'ry  clam'rous  charge  the  guiltless  tomb. 

THE    CHRISTIAN'S    FAITH    IS    RATIONAL. 

Why  disbelieve,  Lorenzo  ? — '  Reason  bids  ; 
AU-sacred  Reason.' — Hold  her  sacred  still ;  730 

Nor  shalt  thou  want  a  rival  in  thy  flame : 

is  cited  as  an  instance  analogous  to  the  Christian  doctrine  of  the  second  ad- 
vent of  the  Son  of  God. 

718.  Nature  is  dumb,  &c.  :  Not  in  regard  to  the  second  advent,  for  this 
would  contradict  previous  assertions  and  illustration,  but  it  is  dumb  in  rela- 
tion to  our  triumph  o'er  the  tomb  (717) . 

729.  "Reason  bids"  (me  disbelieve) :  This  is  said  in  reply  by  Lorenzo,  the 
Sceptic. 

731.  In  thy  flame :  In  thy  ardent  love  of  reason.     The  author  claims  as 


LOS  THE    COMPLAINT. 

All-sacred  Reason  !  source  and  soul  of  all 
Demanding  praise  on  earth,  or  earth  above  ! 
My  heart  is  thine  :  deep  in  its  inmost  folds 
Live  thou  with  life ;  live  dearer  of  the  two.  73  £ 

Wear  I  the  blessed  cross,  by  Fortune  stamp' d 
On  passive  Nature  before  Thought  was  born  ? 
My  birth's  blind  bigot !  fired  with  local  zeal ! 
No  ;  Reason  re-baptized  me  when  adult ; 
Weigh'd  true  and  false  in  her  impartial  scale  ;  740 

My  heart  became  the  convert  of  my  head, 
And  made  that  choice  which  once  was  but  my  fate. 
'  On  argument  alone  my  faith  is  built :' 
Reason  pursued  is  faith ;  and  unpursued, 
Where  proof  invites,  'tis  reason  then  no  more  ;  745 

And  such  our  proof,  that,  or  our  faith  is  right, 
Or  reason  lies,  and  Heav'n  design'd  it  wrong. 
Absolve  we  this  ?  what  then  is  blasphemy  ? 
Fond  as  we  are,  and  justly  fond,  of  faith, 
Reason,  we  grant,  demands  our  first  regard ;  750 

The  mother  honour'd,  as  the  daughter  dear. 
Reason  the  root,  fair  Faith  is  but  the  flow'r : 

6trong  a  love  for  reason  (though  a  Christian) ,  as  Lorenzo  affected  to  enter- 
tain. 

732.   Soul  of  all:  Indispensable  attribute,  or  animating  principle  of  all,  &c 

735.  With  life:  As  long  as  life  lasts. 

736.  By  Fortune  stamp'd,  &c.  :  Do  I  wear  I  he  cross  which  happened  to 
be  stamped  on  my  passive  nature  before  the  development  of  reason '!  In 
other  words,  am  I  Christian  merely  because  it  is  the  prevailing  belief  of  my 
country  and  times  ?  My  birth's  blind  bigot :  Am  la  Christian  merely  be- 
cause the  circumstances  of  my  birth  rendered  me  so  1  Reason  re-baptized  me 
when  adult.  When  I  reached  adult  age  my  reason  approved  and  confirmed 
my  Christian  baptism  when  an  infant.  My  religion  is  based  on  conviction 
resulting  from  the  examination  of  sufficient  evidence,  and  is  not  derived 
merely  from  outward  circumstances. 

743.  This  is  Lorenzo's  declaration;  but  our  author  shows  that  he  is  not 
entitled  to  credit  when  he  makes  it. 
74G.   Or  our  faith  :   Either  our  faith. 
748.  Jlbsolve:  Justify. 


NIOllT    IV.  199 

The  fading  ilow'r  shall  die,  but  Reason  lives 

Immortal,  as  her  Father  in  the  skies. 

When  faith  is  virtue,  reason  makes  it  so.  755 

Wrong  not  the  Christian  :  think  not  reason  jour's ; 

'Tis  reason  our  great  Master  holds  so  dear  ; 

'Tis  reason's  injur' d  rights  his  wrath  resents  ; 

'Tis  reason's  voice  obey'd  his  glories  crown  : 

To  give  lost  reason  life,  he  pour'd  his  own.  700 

Believe,  and  show  the  reason  of  a  man  ; 

Believe,  and  taste  the  pleasure  of  a  God ; 

Believe,  and  look  with  triumph  on  the  tomb. 

Through  reason's  wounds  alone  thy  faith  can  die  ; 

Which  dying,  tenfold  terror  gives  to  death,  765 

And  dips  in  venom  his  twice-mortal  sting. 

FALSE    PRETENSIONS    OF    PHILOSOPHIC    INFIDELITY. 

Learn  hence  what  honours,  what  loud  pagans,  due, 
To  those  who  push  our  antidote  aside  ; 
Those  boasted  friends  to  reason  and  to  man, 
Whose  fatal  love  stabs  every  joy,  and  leaves  770 

Death's  terror  heighten'd  gnawing  at  his  heart. 
These  pompous  sons  of  reason  idolized, 
And  vilified  at  once ;  of  reason  dead, 
Then  deified  as  monarchs  were  of  old  ; 

756.  Think  not  reason  yours:  Think  not  that  reason  belongs  to  you  an 
infidel,  and  as  such. 

764.  Through  reason's  wounds  alone :  Through  the  wounds  which  reason 
alone  inflicts  thy  faith  can  be  put  to  death. 

770.  Fatal  love:  That  is,  to  reason  and  to  man.  The  author  is  speaking 
ironically. 

774.  Deified  as  monarchs,  &c. :  It  was  customary  among  the  Romans  and 
the  Greeks  to  deify  a  multitude  of  men  who  had  distinguished  themselves 
by  memorable  achievements.  After  a  certain  time  the  kings,  or  other  rulers 
of  a  country,  were  raised  to  the  honours  of  divinity.  Thus  honoured  by  a 
base  adulation  were  the  successors  of  Alexander  and  the  emperors  of  Rome. 
The  latter,  even  in  their  life-time,  were,  in  some  instances,  thus  distinguish- 
ed, but  more  frequently  after  death,  to  secure  the  good-will  of  their  descend- 
ants.    The   decree   to   deify  originated  in  the  Roman  senate,  or  in  othei 


200  THE    COMPLAINT. 

What  conduct  plants  proud  laurels  on  their  brow?  7 7 5 

"While  love  of  truth  thro'  all  their  camp  resounds, 

They  draw  Pride's  curtain  o'er  the  noon-tide  ray, 

Spike  up  their  inch  of  reason  on  the  point 

Of  philosophic  wit,  call'd  Argument, 

And  then  exulting  in  their  taper,  cry,  "780 

'  Behold  the  sun  !'  and,  Indian-like,  adore. 

Talk  they  of  morals  ?     0  thou  bleeding  Love ' 
Thou  maker  of  new  morals  to  mankind  ! 
The  grand  morality  is  love  to  Thee. 

As  wise  as  Socrates,  if  such  they  were,  785 

(Nor  will  they  'bate  of  that  sublime  renown) 
As  wise  as  Socrates,  might  justly  stand 
The  definition  of  a  modern  fool. 

A  Christian  is  the  highest  style  of  man. 
And  is  there  who  the  blessed  cross  wipes  off,  790 

As  a  foul  blot,  from  his  dishonour'd  brow  ? 
If  angels  tremble,  'tis  at  such  a  sight : 
The  wretch  they  quit,  desponding  of  their  charge, 
More  struck  with  grief  or  wonder  who  can  tell? 

Ye  sold  to  sense  !  ye  citizens  of  earth  !  795 

(For  such  alone  the  Christian  banner  fly) 
Know  ye  how  wise  your  choice,  how  great  your  gain  ? 
Behold  the  picture  of  earth's  happiest  man  : 
'  He  calls  his  wish,  it  comes  ;  he  sends  it  back, 
And  says  he  call'd  another ;  that  arrives,  800 

Meets  the  same  welcome ;  yet  he  stills  calls  on  ; 
Till  one  calls  him,  who  varies  not  his  call, 
But  holds  him  fast,  in  chains  of  darkness  bound, 
Till  Nature  dies,  and  judgment  sets  him  free ; 
A  freedom  far  less  welcome  than  his  chain.'  805 

words,  Roman  senators  were  the  manufacturers  of  this  class  of  gods.  It  is 
thought  by  some  that  the  practice  of  deifying  Roman  emperors  gave  rise  in 
the  Papal  church  to  the  beatification  of  saints. 

786.  }Bate  of:  Abate,  deduct  anything  from  that  sublime,  &c. 

707.  How  wise :  An  example  of  irony,  where  the  opposite  is  meant  to 
that  which  is  expressed. 


NIGHT    IV.  201 

But  grant  man  happy  ;  grant  him  happy  long  ; 
Add  to  life's  highest  prize  her  latest  hour ; 
That  hour,  so  late,  is  nimble  in  approach, 
That,  like  a  post,  comes  on  in  full  career. 
How  swift  the  shuttle  flies  that  weaves  thy  shroud !  810 

Where  is  the  fable  of  thy  former  years  ? 
Thrown  down  the  gulf  of  time  ;  as  far  from  thee 
As  they  had  ne'er  been  thine  ;  the  day  in  hand, 
Like  a  bird  struggling  to  get  loose,  is  going  ; 
Scarce  now  posscss'd,  so  suddenly  'tis  gone,  315 

And  each  swift  moment  fled,  is  death  advanced 
By  strides  as  swift.     Eternity  is  all  : 
And  whose  eternity  ?  who  triumphs  there  ? 
Bathing  for  ever  in  the  font  of  bliss  ! 

Forever  basking  in  the  Deity  !  820 

Lorenzo,  who  ? — thy  conscience  shall  reply 

THE  VOICE  OF  CONSCIENCE  MUST  HE  HEARD. 

0  give  it  leave  to  speak ;  'twill  speak  ere  long, 
Thy  leave  unask'd :  Lorenzo,  hear  it  now, 
While  useful  its  advice,  its  accent  mild. 

By  the  great  edict,  the  divine  decree,  825 

Truth  is  deposited  with  man's  last  hour ; 
An  honest  hour,  and  faithful  to  her  trust ; 
Truth,  eldest  daughter  of  the  Deity ! 
Truth  of  his  council  when  he  made  the  worlds  ! 
Nor  less,  when  he  shall  judge  the  worlds  he  made  ;  830 

Though  silent  long,  and  sleeping  ne'er  so  sound, 
Smother'd  with  errors,  and  oppress'd  with  toys. 
That  heav'n  commission'd  hour  no  sooner  calls, 
But  from  her  cavern  in  the  soul's  abyss, 
Like  him  they  fable  under  iEtna  whelm'd,  835 

807.  Her  latest  hour :  Her  continuance  for  the  longest  usual  period. 

835.  Like  him  they  fable,  &c.  :  The  giant  Enceladus,  who  rebelled  against 
Jupiter;  in  fleeing  from  whom,  Minerva  threw  upon  him  the  island  of  Si- 
cily. The  convulsions  and  eruptions  of  Mount  Etna,  according  to  the  fable, 
9* 


202  THE    COMPLAINT. 

The  goddess  bursts  in  thunder  and  in  flame, 

Loudly  convinces,  and  severely  pains. 

Dark  daemons  I  discharge,  and  hydra-stings  ; 

The  keen  vibration  of  bright  truth — is  hell ; 

Just  definition  !  though  by  schools  untaught.  810 

Ye  deaf  to  truth,  peruse  this  parson'd  page, 

And  trust,  for  once,  a  prophet  and  a  priest ; 

'  Men  may  live  fools,  but  fools  they  cannot  die.' 

were  caused  by  his  changing  the  position  of  his  body.     Thus   Virgil,  JEn. 
III.  578—582. 

"  Fama  est,  Enceladi  semiustum  fulmine  corpus 
Urgucri  niolo  hac,  ingentemqne  insuper  -Etnam 
Impositam  ruptis  Sauimam  expirare  caminis  : 
Et,  fcssum  quotics  mutet  latus,  intremere  omnem 
Murmure  Trinacriam,  et  caelum  subtexere  fumo." 

838.  Dark  daemons,  &c.  :  The  truths  I  proclaim  are  formidable  as  demons, 
and  painful  as  the  stings  of  the  fabled  hydra,  or  serpentine  monster  of  the 
Lernean  marsh  ;  to  destroy  which  was  one  of  the  celebrated  labours  of  the 
Pagan  god  Hercules. 

841.  Parson'd  page  :  So  called  either  because  it  was  written  by  a  clergy- 
man, or  because  it  conveyed  the  sentiments  of  one. 

843.  Men  may  live  fools,  &c.  :  Dr.  Dodd  introduces  the  Earl  of  Rochester 
as  an  instance  of  the  truth  of  this  remark,  and  observes,  that  here  were  parts 
so  exalted  by  nature,  and  improved  by  study,  and  yet  so  corrupted  and  de- 
based by  irreligion  and  vice,  that  he  who  was  made  to  be  one  of  the  glories 
of  his  age,  became  a  proverb ;  and  if  his  repentance  had  not  happily  inter- 
posed, would  have  been  one  of  the  greatest  reproaches  of  it.  He  well  knew 
the  small  strength  of  that  weak  cause,  whose  arguments  had  so  poisoned  his 
mind  ;  and  as  at  first  he  despised,  so  afterwards  he  abhorred  them  ;  he  felt 
the  mischief,  and  saw  the  madness  of  their  plan  ;  and  hence,  though  he  lived 
indeed  to  the  scandal  of  many,  he  died  as  much  to  the  edification  of  all  those 
who  saw  him  ;  and  because  they  were  but  a  smaller  number,  he  desired  that, 
through  the  mouths  and  pens  of  his  reverend  friends,  Dr.  Burnet,  and  Mr. 
Parson,  even  when  dead  he  might  still  speak  good  instruction  to  all. 
Thus,  though  he  lived  in  hearl,  in  writing,  and  in  life  a  heinous  sinner,  he 
died  with  every  hopeful  symptom  of  a  sincere  and  most  exemplary  peni- 
tence 

"  Men  may  live  fools,  but  fools  they  cannot  die.n 


3JS    stoUO; 
I ^Tarcaf s a -wsls  xhj faroiitejlet  us  read. 
Her  moral  stone. 


NIGHT   V. 


THE  RELAPSE. 


3usrriM  fa  tljj  lit.  9m  ijic  furl  nf  litrpda. 


Lorenzo  !  to  recriminate  is  just. 
Fondness  for  fame  is  avarice  of  air. 
I  grant  the  man  is  vain  who  writes  for  praise. 
Praise  no  man  e'er  deserved,  who  sought  no  more. 

As  just  thy  second  charge.     I  grant  the  muse  5 

Has  often  blush'd  at  her  degen'rate  sons, 
Retain' d  by  sense  to  plead  her  filthy  cause, 
To  raise  the  low,  to  magnify  the  mean, 

The  Relapse :  This  title  seems  to  indicate  a  relapse,  or  falling  back,  into 
grief;  if  our  conclusion  is  correctly  drawn  from  the  passage  274 — 281 
Night  V. 

2.  Jlvarice  of  air :  A  fond  and  greedy  desire  of  nothing  more  substantial 
than  air- 

4.  No  more :  No  more  than  praise. 

5.  Second  charge :  The  first  was,  that  he  is  a  vain  man  who  writes  for 
praise  or  renown :  the  second  charge  is,  that  the  muse  has  often  blushed  at 
the  ignoble  use  to  which  some  of  her  gifted  sons  have  applied  their  talents. 


204  THE    COMPLAINT. 

And  subtilize  the  gross  into  refined ; 

As  if  to  magic  numbers'  pow'rful  charm  10 

'Twas  given  to  make  a  civet  of  their  song 

Obscene,  and  sweeten  ordure  to  perfume. 

Wit,  a  true  Pagan,  deifies  the  brute, 

And  lifts  our  swine-enjoyments  from  the  mire. 

PLEASURE    AND    PRIDE,    OF    OPPOSITE    TENDENCIES. 

The  fact  notorious,  nor  obscure  the  cause.  15 

We  wear  the  chains  of  pleasure  and  of  pride  : 
These  share  the  man,  and  these  distract  him  too  ; 
Draw  different  ways,  and  clash  in  their  commands. 
Pride,  like  an  eagle,  builds  among  the  stars ; 
But  Pleasure,  lark-like,  nests  upon  the  ground.  20 

Joys  shared  by  brute  creation  Pride  resents  ;  ' 
Pleasure  embraces  :  man  would  both  enjoy 
And  both  at  once  :  a  point  how  hard  to  gain  ! 
But  what  can't  Wit,  when  stung  by  strong  desire  ? 

WIT    STRIVES    TO    RECONCILE    THEM. 

Wit  dares  attempt  this  arduous  enterprise.  25 

Since  joys  of  sense  can't  rise  to  Reason's  taste, 
In  subtle  Sophistry's  laborious  forge, 
Wit  hammers  out  a  reason  new,  that  stoops 
To  sordid  scenes,  and  meets  them  with  applause. 
Wit  calls  the  Graces  the  chaste  zone  to  loose ;  30 

Nor  less  than  a  plump  god  to  fill  the  bowl : 
A  thousand  phantoms  and  a  thousand  spells, 
A  thousand  opiates  scatters  to  delude, 
To  fascinate,  inebriate,  lay  asleep, 

And  the  fool'd  mind  delightfully  confound.  35 

Thus  that  which  shock'd  the  judgment  shocks  no  more  : 

11.  Civet:  Perfume,  consisting  of  a  brown  semi-fluid  matter,  found  in  a 
gland  belonging  to  The  civet  cat.  It  yields  an  offensive  odour,  unless  it  be 
very  much  diluted  ;  in  that  state,  when  combined  with  other  perfumes,  it 
greatly  augments  their  energy. 


NIGHT    V.  205 

That  which  gave  Pride  offence  no  more  offends. 

Pleasure  and  Pride,  by  nature  mortal  foes, 

At  war  eternal  which  in  man  shall  reign, 

By  Wit's  address  patch  up  a  fatal  peace,  40 

-And  hand-in-hand  lead  on  the  rank  debauch, 

From  rank  refined  to  delicate  and  gay. 

Art,  cursed  Art !  wipes  off  th'  indebted  blush 

From  Nature's  cheek,  and  bronzes  ev'ry  shame. 

Man  smiles  in  ruin,  glories  in  his  guilt,  45 

And  Infamy  stands  candidate  for  praise. 

All  writ  by  man  in  favour  of  the  soul, 
These  sensual  ethics  far  in  bulk  transcend. 
The  fiow'rs  of  eloquence  profusely  pour'd 
O'er  spotted  Vice,  fill  half  the  letter'd  world.  50 

Can  pow'rs  of  genius  exorcise  their  page, 

43-46  Cursed  Art,  he.  :  A  story  is  related,  of  an  atheistical  author,  the 
Earl  of  Rochester  (already  referred  to  in  a  previous  note),  which  strikingly 
confirms  the  sentiment  uttered  here  by  our  author.  This  man,  says  Dr. 
Dodd.  at  a  time  when  he  lay  dangerously  sick,  and  had  desired  the  assist- 
ance of  a  neighbouring  curate,  confessed  to  him  with  great  contrition,  that 
nothing  sat  more  heavy  at  his  heart,  than  the  sense  of  his  having  seduced 
the  age  by  his  writings,  and  that  their  evil  influence  was  likely  to  continue 
even  after  his  death.  The  curate  among  other  things,  designed  to  allay  his 
apparent  agony  of  remorse,  said  to  him,  that  he  did  well  in  being  afflicted 
for  the  evil  design  with  which  he  published  his  book,  but  that  he  ought  to 
be  very  thankful  that  there  was  no  danger  of  its  doing  any  hurt ;  that  his 
cause  was  so  very  bad,  and  his  arguments  so  weak,  that  he  did  not  appre- 
hend any  ill  effects  from  it.  The  pride  of  the  noble  author  was  much  of- 
fended by  this  and  similar  remarks  from  the  faithful  curate.  The  sick  man 
recovered  from  that  severe  illness,  and  evinced  the  insincerity  of  his  pro- 
fessed penitence  at  that  period,  by  afterwards  writing  and  publishing  two 
or  three  other  tracts  with  the  same  spirit,  and,  very  luckily  for  mankind 
and  his  own  reputation,  with  no  belter  acceptance  or  success. 

47.  All:  Everything;  in  the  objective  case  depending  on  the  verb  trans- 
cend. 

51.  Exorcise  their  page :  Deprive  their  page  of  its  corrupting  tendencies — 
an  allusion  to  the  base  and  malicious  demons  that  possessed  the  bodies  of 
men  at  the  commencement  of  the  Christian  era,  and  which  were  exorcised, 
or  driven  out,  by  the  power  of  Christ,  and  by  that  which  he  delegated  to 
the  apostles. 


206  THE    COMPLAINT. 

And  consecrate  enormities  with  song  ? 

But  let  not  these  inexpiable  strains 

Condemn  the  muse  that  knows  her  dignity, 

Nor  meanly  stops  at  time,  hut  holds  the  world  55 

As  'tis  in  Nature's  ample  field,  a  point, 

A  point  in  her  esteem  ;  from  whence  to  start, 

And  run  the  round  of  universal  space, 

To  visit  being  universal  there, 

And  being's  source,  that  utmost  flight  of  mind !  60 

5Tet  spite  of  this  so  vast  circumference, 

Well  knows  but  what  is  moral,  nought  is  great. 

Sing  syrens  only  ?  do  not  angels  sing  ? 

There  is  in  Poesy  a  decent  pride, 

"Which  well  becomes  her  when  she  speaks  to  Prose,  65 

Her  younger  sister,  haply  not  more  wise. 

55.  At  time :  At  the  boundaries  of  time,  treating  only  upon  the  affairs  of  this 
present  life. 

63.  Syrens :  Fabulous  female  goddesses,  said  to  possess  a  most  dangerous 
power  over  men  by  their  bewitching  songs.  We  have  given  in  a  former 
note  a  more  full  account  of  them. 

66.  Her  younger  sister :  The  earliest  literature  of  most  ancient  countries 
is  in  the  poetic  form.  Dr.  Blair,  in  his  Lecture  on  the  Origin  and  Progress 
of  Poetry,  has  discussed  this  subject  in  a  full  and  interesting  manner.  Some 
of  his  observations  will  here  be  given.  It  has  been  often  said,  and  the  con- 
curring voice  of  all  antiquity  affirms,  that  Poetry  is  older  than  Prose :  but 
in  what  sense  this  seemingly  strange  paradox  holds  true,  has  not  always 
been  well  understood.  There  never  certainly  was  any  period  of  society  in 
which  men  conversed  together  in  poetical  numbers.  It  was  in  very  humble 
and  scanty  prose,  as  we  may  easily  believe,  that  the  first  tribes  carried  on 
intercourse  among  themselves,  relating  to  the  wants  and  necessities  of  life. 
But  from  the  very  beginning  of  society,  there  were  occasions  on  which  they 
met  together  for  feasts,  sacrifices  and  public  assemblies  ;  and  on  all  such  oc- 
casions, it  is  well  known  that  music,  song,  and  dance  made  their  principal 
entertainment.  Two  particulars  would  early  distinguish  this  language  of 
song  from  that  in  which  they  conversed  on  the  common  occurrences  of  life ; 
namely,  an  unusual  arrangement  of  words,  and  the  employment  of  bold 
figures  of  speech. 

The  same  impulse  which  prompted  the  enthusiastic,  poetic  style,  prompt- 
ed a  certain  melody,  or  modulation  of  sound,  suited  to  the  emotions  ex- 
pressed.     Music   and   poetry,   therefore,   had   the  same  rise;    they   weje 


207 


SERIOUS    CHARACTER    OF    THE    POEM. 

Think'st  thou,  Lorenzo,  to  find  pastimes  here  ? 
No  guilty  passion  blown  into  a  flame, 
No  foible  flatter'd,  dignity  disgraced, 

No  fairy  field  of  fiction,  all  on  flower,  70 

No  rainbow  colours  here,  or  silken  tale  ; 
But  solemn  counsels,  images  of  awe, 
Truths  which  Eternity  lets  fall  on  man 
With  double  weight,  thro'  these  revolving  spheres. 
This  death-deep  silence,  and  incumbent  shade  ;  75 

Thoughts  such  as  shall  revisit  your  last  hour, 
Visit  uncalFd,  and  five  when  life  expires  ; 
And  thy  dark  pencil.  Midnight !  darker  still 
In  melancholy  dipp'd,  embrowns  the  whole. 

Yet  this,  even  this,  my  laughter-loving  friends,  80 

Lorenzo  !  and  thy  brothers  of  the  smile  ! 

prompted  by  the  same  occasions ;  they  were  united  in  song,  and  tended  to 
heighten  and  exalt  each  other.  The  first  poets  sung  their  own  verses ; 
and  hence  the  beginning  of  what  we  call  versification,  or  words  arranged 
in  a  more  artful  order  than  prose,  so  as  to  be  suited  to  some  tune  or  melody. 
It  thus  appears  that  the  first  compositions  which  were  either  recorded  by 
writing,  or  transmitted  by  tradition,  could  be  no  other  than  poetical  compo- 
sitions. No  other  could  draw  the  attention  of  men  in  their  rude,  uncivilized 
state.  Indeed,  they  knew  no  other.  The  earliest  accounts  which  history 
gives  us  of  all  nations  bear  testimony  to  these  facts.  In  the  first  ages  of 
Greece,  priests,  philosophers,  and  statesmen,  all  delivered  their  instructions 
in  poetry. 

07.  Here:  in  this  poem. 

79.  Embrowns :  Darkens.  A  corresponding  word  is  much  used  by  lltr 
Italians  to  describe  anything  shaded.  Milton  uses  it  in  his  Par.  Lo.st.  Bk, 
IV.  245—46. 

"  And  where  the  unpiere'd  shade 
Imhrown'd  the  noontide  bow'rs." 

He  presents  the  same  idea  in  Book  IX.  10S5 — 88. 

"  In  some  glade 
Obscured,  where  highest  woods  impenetrable 
To  star  or  sun-light,  spread  their  umbrage  broad 
And  firoicn  as  ev'ning  I" 


20S  THE    COMPLAINT. 

If  what  imports  you  most  can  most  engage, 

Shall  steal  your  ear,  and  chain  you  to  my  song. 

Or  if  you  fail  me,  know  the  wise  shall  taste 

The  truths  I  sing  ;  the  truths  I  sing  shall  feeL  85 

And,  feeling,  give  assent ;  and  then-  assent 

Is  ample  recompense ;  is  more  than  praise. 

But  chiefly  thine,  0  Litchfield  !  nor  mistake  ! 

Think  not  unintroduced  I  force  my  way ; 

Narcissa,  not  unknown,  not  unallied  90 

By  virtue,  or  by  blood,  illustrious  youth  ! 

To  thee,  from  blooming  amaranthine  bow'rs, 

Where  all  the  language  Harmony,  descends 

Uncall'd,  and  asks  admittance  for  the  muse  : 

A  muse  that  will  not  pain  thee  with  thy  praise :  95 

Thy  praise  she  drops,  by  nobler  still  inspired. 

SOURCE    OF   THE    POET'S    INSPIRATION. 

0  thou,  blest  Spirit !  whether  the  supreme, 
Great  antemundane  Father !  in  whose  breast 
Embryo  creation,  unborn  being,  dwelt, 

And  all  its  various  revolutions  roll'd  100 

Present,  though  future  ;  prior  to  themselves  ; 
Whose  breath  can  blow  it  into  nought  again  ; 
Or,  from  his  throne  some  delegated  pow'r, 
Who,  studious  of  our  peace,  dost  turn  the  thought 
From  vain  and  vile,  to  solid  and  sublime  !  105 

Unseen  thou  lead'st  me  to  delicious  draughts 
Of  inspiration,  from  a  purer  stream, 
And  fuller  of  the  God  than  that  which  burst 
From  famed  Castalia ;  nor  is  yet  allay'd 

98.  Antemundane :  Existing  before  the  world. 

109.  Famed  Castalia:  A  fountain,  sacred  to  the  Muses,  on  Mount  Par- 
nassus, in  Greece,  being  supplied  from  the  perpetual  snows  of  the  summits 
of  that  mountain.  The  water  is  clear  and  refreshing,  and  was  anciently 
used  by  the  Pythia.  and  the  oracular  priests  at  Delphi  in  its  neighbourhood. 
There  was  another  fountain  of  the  same  name  in  Syria,  near  Daphne  ;  the 


HT    V.  LiuO 

My  sacred  thirst,  though  long  my  soul  has  ranged  110 

Through  pleasing  paths  of  moral  and  divine, 
By  thee  sustain'd,  and  lighted  by  the  stars. 

THE    ADVANTAGES    OF    NIGHT    OVER    THOSE    OF    DAY. 

By  them  best  lighted  are  the  paths  of  thought ; 
Nights  are  their  days,  their  most  illumined  hours  ! 
By  day  the  soul,  o'erborne  by  life's  car  115 

Stunn'd  by  the  din,  and  giddy  with  the  glare, 
Reels  far  from  reason,  jostled  by  the  throng. 
By  day  the  soul  is  passive,  all  her  thoughts 
Imposed,  precarious,  broken,  ere  mature. 
By  night,  from  objects  free,  from  passion  cool,  120 

Thoughts  uncontroll'd,  and  unimpress'd,  the  births 
Of  pure  election,  arbitrary  range, 
Not  to  the  limits  of  one  world  confined, 
But  from  ethereal  travels  light  on  earth. 
As  voyagers  drop  anchor  for  rep<  125 

Let  Indians,  and  the  gay,  like  Indians,  fond 
Of  feather' d  fopperies,  the  sun  adore ; 
Darkness  has  more  divinity  for  me  ; 
It  strikes  thought  inward  ;  it  drives  back  the  soul 
To  settle  on  herself,  our  point  supreme !  130 

There  lies  our  theatre ;  there  sits  our  judge. 
Darkness  the  curtain  drops  o'er  life's  dull  scene  ; 
'Tis  the  kind  hand  of  Providence  stretch'd  out 
'Twixt  man  and  vanity ;  'tis  Reason's  reign, 
And  Virtue's  too  ;  these  tutelary  shades  135 

Are  man's  asylum  from  the  tainted  throng. 
Night  is  the  good  man's  friend,  and  guardian  too, 
It  no  less  rescues  virtue  than  inspires. 

waters  of  which  were  supposed  to  impart  a  knowledge  of  futurity  to  those 
who  drank  them. 

138.  Resaies  virtue  than  inspires  :  While  all  this  is  true  it  must  neverthe- 
less be  conceded,  that  under  cover  of  night  vicious  deeds  are  more  conve- 
nient! v  and  securely  performed  than  under  the  light  of  the  sun. 


210  THE    COMPLAINT. 

Virtue,  for  ever  frail  as  fair,  below, 
Her  tender  nature  suffers  in  the  crowd,  140 

Nor  touches  on  the  world  without  a  stain. 
The  world's  infectious  ;  few  bring  back  at  eve, 
Immaculate,  the  manners  of  the  morn. 
Something  we  thought,  is  blotted  ;  we  resolved, 
Is  shaken  ;  we  renounced,  returns  again.  14-j 

Each  salutation  may  slide  in  a  sin 
Unthought  before,  or  fix  a  former  flaw. 
Nor  is  it  strange  ;  light,  motion,  concourse,  noise, 
All  scatter  us  abroad.     Thought,  outward-bound, 
Neglectful  of  our  home  affairs,  flies  off  150 

In  fume  and  dissipation,  quits  her  charge, 
And  leaves  the  breast  unguarded  to  the  foe. 

Present  example  gets  within  our  guard, 
And  acts  with  double  force,  by  few  repell'd. 
Ambition  fires  ambition  ;  love  of  gain  155 

Strikes,  like  a  pestilence,  from  breast  to  breast : 
Eiot,  pride,  perfidy,  blue  vapours  breathe, 
And  inhumanity  is  caught  from  man, 
From  smiling  man  !     A  slight,  a  single  glance, 
And  shot  at  random,  often  has  brought  home  160 

A  sudden  fever  to  the  throbbing  heart 
Of  envy,  rancour,  or  impure  desire. 
We  see,  we  hear,  with  peril ;  safety  dwells 
Remote  from  multitude.     The  world's  a  school 
Of  wrong,  and  what  proficients  swarm  around  !  165 

We  must  or  imitate  or  disapprove  ; 
Must  list  as  their  accomplices  or  foes  : 
That  stains  our  innocence,  this  wounds  our  peace. 
From  Nature's  birth,  hence,  Wisdom  has  been  smit 
With  sweet  recess,  and  languish'd  for  the  shade.  170 

This  sacred  shade  and  solitude,  what  is  it  ? 
'Tis  the  felt  presence  of  the  Deity. 

166.   Or:  Either. 

169-70.   Smit  with  tweet  recess:  Fond  of  sweet  retirement,  or  seclusion 
from  company. 


NIGHT    V.  21  1 

Few  arc  the  faults  we  flatter  when  alone. 

Vice  sinks  in  her  allurements,  is  ungilt, 

And  looks,  like  other  objects,  black  by  night.  170 

By  night  an  atheist  half  believes  a  God. 

Night  is  fair  Virtue's  immemorial  friend. 
The  conscious  moon,  through  ev'ry  distant  age, 
Has  held  a  lamp  to  Wisdom,  and  let  fall 

On  Contemplation's  eye  her  purging  ray.  1»U 

The  famed  Athenian,  he  who  wooed  from  heaven 
Philosophy  the  fair,  to  dwell  with  men, 
And  form  their  manners,  not  inflame  their  pride  : 
While  o'er  his  head,  as  fearful  to  molest 

His  lab'ring  mind,  the  stars  in  silence  slide,  185 

And  seem  all  gazing  on  their  future  guest, 
See  him  soliciting  his  ardent  suit 
In  private  audience  ;  all  the  livelong  night, 
Rigid  in  thought,  and  motionless  he  stands, 
Nor  quits  his  theme  or  posture  till  the  sun  190 

(Rude  drunkard  !  rising  rosy  from  the  main) 
Disturbs  his  nobler  intellectual  beam, 
And  gives  him  to  the  tumult  of  the  world. 
Hail,  precious  moments  !  stol'n  from  the  black  waste 

181.  The  famed  Athenian  :  It  is  probable  that  our  author  here  had  Socrates 
in  view.  To  him,  at  least,  the  description  well  applies.  Qnintilian  calls 
him  fons  philosophorum  (the  fountain  of  philosophers) .  As  Homer  was 
esteemed  by  the  ancients  the  father  of  poetry,  so  Socrates  was  regarded  as 
the  father  of  moral  philosophy,  the  different  sects  acknowledging  him  as 
their  common  parent.  The  account  of  him  which  Milton  gives,  in  the  Pa- 
radise Regained,  will  always  be  read  with  peculiar  satisfaction.  Book  IV. 
272—280. 

"To  sage  Philosophy  next  lend  thine  ear. 
From  lieav*n  descended  to  the  low-roofd  house 
Of  Socrates ;  see  there  his  tenement 
Whom  well  inspir'd  the  oracle  pronoune'd 
Wisest  of  men;  from  whose  mouth  issued  forth 
Mellifluous  streams  that  water'd  all  the  schools 
Of  Academies  old  and  new.  with  those 
Snrnam'd  Peripatetioks,  and  the  sect 
Epicurean,  and  the  Stoick  severe." 

191.   The  main  :  The  sea. 


212  THE    COMPLAINT. 

Of  murder'd  lime  !  auspicious  Midnight,  hail!  10 .1 

The  world  excluded,  ev'ry  passion  hush'd, 

And  open'd  a  calm  intercourse  with  heav'n. 

Here  the  soul  sits  in  council,  ponders  past, 

Predestines  future  actions ;  sees,  not  feels, 

Tumultuous  life,  and  reasons  with  the  storm;  20 

All  her  lies  answers,  and  thinks  down  her  charms. 

What  awful  joy  !  what  mental  liberty  ! 
I  am  not  pent  in  darkness ;  rather  say 
(If  not  too  bold)  in  darkness  I'm  embower'd. 
Delightful  gloom  !  the  clust'ring  thoughts  around  205 

Spontaneous  rise,  and  blossom  in  the  shade, 
But  droop  by  day,  and  sicken  in  the  sun. 
Thought  borrows  light  elsewhere  :  from  that  first  fire, 
Fountain  of  animation  !  whence  descends 
Urania,  my  celestial  guest !  who  deigns  210 

195.  Of  murder'd  time:  The  epithet  here  seems  to  be  applied  unwisely 
Man,  considered  as  subject  to  physical  necessities,  does  not  murder  that  time 
which  he  passes  in  needful  repose.  It  is  necessary  to  his  intellectual  as  well 
as  physical  vigor;  and  if  he  may  sleep  at  any  time,  he  cannot  be  blamed  for 
taking  repose  at  midnight,  the  period  of  which  our  author  speaks,  as  stolen 
by  him  from  the  black  waste  of  murdered  time. 

206.  Spontaneous  rise :  We  learn  from  this  passage  that  our  author  had 
greater  freedom  and  even  luxury  of  thought  in  the  delightful  gloom  of  mid- 
night than  amid  the  glory  of  sun-light. 

210.  Urania,  &c.  :  Our  author  here  imitates  Milton,  who  addresses  Ura- 
nia as  a  goddess,  or  heavenly  personage,  entreats  her  to  descend  from  heaven, 
and  thus,  in  part,  describes  her: — 

"For  thou 
Nor  of  the  Muses  nine,  nor  on  the  top 
Of  old  Olympus  dwell'st,  but  heavenly  born  : 
Before  the  hills  appear'd,  or  fountain  flow'd, 
Thou  with  eternal  Wisdom  didst  converse, 
Wisdom  thy  sister,  and  with  her  didst  play 
In  presence  of  th'  Almighty  Father,  pleas'd 
With  thy  celestial  song,"  &c. 

He  then,  like  our  author,  speaks  of  the  nightly  visits  with  which  Urania 
favoured  him. 

"  In  darkness,  and  with  dangers  compass'd  round, 
And  solitude ;  yet  not  alone,  while  thou 


NIGHT    V.  211 

Nightly  to  visit  mo,  so  mean ;  and  now, 

Conscious  how  needful  discipline  to  man, 

From  pleasing  dalliance  with  the  charms  of  night, 

My  wand'ring  thought  recalls,  to  what  excites 

Far  other  beat  of  heart,  Narcissa's  tomb  !  2  I 

FLUCTUATIONS    IX    HUMAN    FEELING. 

Or  is  it  feeble  Nature  calls  me  back, 
And  breaks  my  spirit  into  grief  again  I 
Is  it  a  Stygian  vapour  in  my  blood  1 
A  cold  slow  puddle  creeping  through  my  veins  ? 
Or  is  it  thus  with  all  men  ? — Thus  with  all.  220 

"What  are  we  ?  how  unequal !  now  we  soar, 
And  now  we  sink.     To  be  the  same  transcends 
Our  present  prowess.     Dearly  pays  the  soul 
For  lodging  ill ;  too  dearly  rents  her  clay. 
Reason,  a  baffled  counsellor  !  but  adds  225 

The  blush  of  weakness  to  the  bane  of  wo. 
The  noblest  spirit,  fighting  her  hard  fate 
In  this  damp,  dusky  region,  charged  with  storms, 
But  feebly  flutters,  yet  untaught  to  fly ; 

Or,  flying,  short  her  flight,  and  sure  her  fall :  230 

Our  utmost  strength,  when  down,  to  rise  again, 
And  not  to  yield,  though  beaten,  all  our  praise. 

'Tis  vain  to  seek  in  men  for  more  than  man. 
Though  proud  in  promise,  big  in  previous  thought, 

Visit'st  my  slumbers  nightly,  or  when  morn 
Purples  the  east :  still  govern  thou  my  song, 
Urania.'—  Par.  Lost,  Bk.  VII.  5—12,  27—31. 

218.  Stygian  vapour :  An  allusion  is  here  made  to  a  fabulous  river  of  the 
lower  world.  The  classic  poets  describe  it  as  a  broad,  dull,  sluggish,  and 
very  shallow  stream,  hence  sometimes  called  a  lake,  or  a  fen.  When 
any  of  the  Pagan  gods  became  guilty  of  perjury,  they  were  obliged  to  take 
a  draught  of  the  Stygian  water,  which,  for  a  whole  year,  had  the  effect  of 
taking  away  sensibility  and  power  of  motion.  To  this  fable  the  language 
of  our  author  bears  a  strong  allusion. 

224.  Lodging  ill:  111  lodging,  the  body. 


214  THE    COMPLAINT. 

Experience  damps  our  triumph.     I,  who  late  235 

Emerging  from  the  shadows  of  the  grave, 

Where  grief  detain'd  me  pris'ner,  mounting  high, 

Threw  wide  the  gates  of  everlasting  day, 

And  call'd  mankind  to  glory,  shook  off  pain, 

Mortality  shook  oft',  in  ether  pure,  240 

And  struck  the  stars,  now  feel  my  spirits  fail ; 

They  drop  me  from  the  zenith  ;  down  I  rush, 

Like  him  whom  fable  fledged  with  waxen  wings, 

In  sorrow  drown'd — but  not  in  sorrow  lost. 

How  wretched  is  the  man  who  never  mourn' d  !  245 

I  dive  for  precious  pearl  in  sorrow's  stream  : 

Not  so  the  thoughtless  man  that  only  grieves, 

Takes  all  the  torment,  and  rejects  the  gain ; 

(Inestimable  gain)  and  gives  Heav'n  leave 

To  make  him  but  more  wretched,  not  more  wise.  250 

PROFICIENCY    MADE    IN    THE    SCHOOL    OF    GRIEF. 

If  wisdom  is  our  lesson  (and  what  else 
Ennobles  man  ?  what  else  have  angels  learn'd  ?) 
Grief !  more  proficients  in  thy  school  are  made, 
Than  genius  or  proud  learning  e'er  could  boast. 
Voracious  learning,  often  over-fed,  255 

Digests  not  into  sense  her  motley  meal. 
This  bookcase,  with  dark  booty  almost  burst 
This  forager  on  others'  wisdom,  leaves 

243.  With  waxen  wings,  &c.  :  Reference  is  here  made  to  Icnrus,  the  son 
of  Daedalus,  an  Athenian,  famed  for  his  skill  in  architecture  and  statuary. 
In  consequence  of  a  murder  which  he  committed  at  Athens,  Daedalus  was 
banished,  took  up  his  residence  in  Crete,  where  he  offended  Minos  the  king 
and  was  imprisoned.  He  determined  to  flee  from  Crete,  having  escaped 
from  his  confinement;  hut  being  unable  to  escape  by  sea  he  resolved  to 
attempt  flight  through  the  air.  He  made,  accordingly,  wings  of  feathers 
united  by  wax,  for  himself  and  his  son  Icarus.  They  mounted  into  the  air 
as  the  fable  relates  ;  but  Icarus,  ascending  too  high,  and  approaching  too  near 
the  sun,  its  heat  melted  the  wax,  and  the  youth  fell  into  the  sea  and  was 
drowned.     Daedalus  arrived  safely  in  Sicily. — Jlnthonh  CI.  Die. 


NIGHT    V.  '215 

Her  native  farm,  her  reason,  quite  untill'd. 
With  rnix'd  manure  she  surfeits  the  rank  soil,  2G0 

Dung'd  but  not  dress'd,  and  rich  to  beggary  : 
A  pomp  untameable  of  weeds  prevails: 
Her  servant's  wealth  encumber'd  Wisdom  mourns. 
And  what  says  Genius  ?  '  Let  the  dull  be  wise.' 
Genius,  too  hard  for  right,  can  prove  it  wrong,  205 

And  loves  to  boast,  where  blush  men  less  inspired. 
It  pleads  exemption  from  the  laws  of  sense, 
Considers  reason  as  a  leveller, 
And  scorns  to  share  a  blessing  with  the  crowd. 
That  wise  it  could  be,  thinks  an  ample  claim  270 

To  glory,  and  to  pleasure  gives  the  rest. 
Crassus  but  sleeps,  Ardelio  is  undone. 
Wisdom  less  shudders  at  a  fool  than  wit. 

263.  Her  servant's  wealth :  The  wealth  of  Learning,  the  servant  of  Wis- 
dom. 

265.  Too  hard  for  right,  &c.  :  Too  hardened  to  do  right ;  or,  too  obstinate 
to  adopt  what  is  right,  can  prove  the  right  wrong  for  the  purpose  of  self-jus- 
tification. 

267.   Sense:  Common  sense  or  judgment. 

272.  Crassus  but  sleeps,  &c.  :  In  the  use  of  this  fictitious  name  there 
seems  to  be  an  allusion  to  the  Roman  Crassus,  the  most  finished  speaker 
that  had,  up  to  his  time,  adorned  the  Roman  forum.  The  meaning  of  oui 
author  in  the  passage  seems  to  be  this — "  Genius,"  so  far  as  his  talents  and 
attainments  are  concerned,  may  be  a  very  Crassus,  yet  he  does  not  employ 
them  wisely — "Crassus but  sleeps,"  but  in  other  respects,  in  the  gratifica- 
tion of  his  appetites  and  passions,  he  even  goes  beyond  Arddio,  a  name  used 
as  a  representative  of  some  notorious  libertine. 

Or,  perhaps,  the  author's  meaning  may  be  more  accurately  explained 
thus : — i:  Genius,"  so  far  as  his  capacity  for  a  wise  course  of  action  is  con- 
cerned (indicated  under  the  name  of  Crassus)  is  asleep;  he  does  not  exert 
it:  but  su;h  is  the  manner  in  which  his  other  faculties  are  employed,  and 
his  propensities  and  inclinations  are  gratified,  that  he  is  undone,  he  is  a  ruined 
man,  described  under  the  name  of  Ardelio.  Genius  pleads  the  fact  that 
it  could  be  wise  (270)  an  ample  claim  to  glory,  even  while  it  pursues  an  oppo- 
site course,  by  yielding  itself  to  pleasure  (271).  And  our  author  justly 
remarks  that  wisdom  is  less  shocked  at  a  fool  than  at  a  wit  who  thus  pros- 
titutes his  high  endowments. 


210  THE    COMPLAINT. 

But  wisdom  smiles,  when  humbled  mortals  weep. 
When  sorrow  wounds  tbe  breast,  as  ploughs  the  glebe,       275 
And  hearts  obdurate  feel  her  soft'ning  shower : 
Her  seed  celestial,  then,  glad  wisdom  sows  ; 
Her  golden  harvest  triumphs  in  the  soil. 
If  so,  Narcissa,  welcome  my  Relapse ; 

I'll  raise  a  tax  on  my  calamity,  280 

And  reap  rich  compensation  from  my  pain. 
I'll  range  the  plenteous  intellectual  field, 
And  gather  ev'ry  thought  of  sov'reign  pow'r 
To  chase  the  moral  maladies  of  man  ; 

Thoughts  which  may  bear  transplanting  to  the  skies,  285 

Though  natives  of  this  coarse  penurious  soil ; 
Nor  wholly  wither  there  where  seraphs  sing, 
Refined,  exalted,  not  annull'd,  in  heav'n  : 
Reason,  the  sun  that  gives  them  birth,  the  same 
In  eitber  clime,  though  more  illustrious  there.  290 

These,  choicely  cull'd  and  elegantly  ranged, 
Shall  form  a  garland  for  Narcissa's  tomb, 
And,  peradventure,  of  no  fading  flow'rs. 

Say,  on  what  themes  shall  puzzled  choice  descend  ? 
'Th'  importance  of  contemplating  the  tomb  ;  295 

Why  men  decline  it ;  suicide's  foul  birth  ; 
The  various  kinds  of  grief;  the  faults  of  age  ; 
And  death's  dread  character — invite  my  song.' 

THE  IMPORTANCE  OF  OUR  END  SURVEYED. 

And,  first,  th'  importance  of  our  end  survey'd. 
Friends  counsel  quick  dismission  of  our  grief.  flOO 

Mistaken  kindness  !  our  hearts  heal  too  soon. 
Are  they  more  kind  than  He  who  struck  the  blow  ? 
Who  bid  it  do  his  errand  in  our  hearts, 
And  banish  peace,  till  nobler  guests  arrive, 

274.  Wisdom  smiles :  Smiles  in  token  of  approval. 

275.  As  ploughs  wound  the  glebe. 

279.  My  Relapse:  My  falling  back   (into  a  state  of  grief). 
288.  Annul/' J:   Destrny<H. 


MGHT    V.  217 

And  bring  it  back  a  true  and  endless  peace  ?  305 

Calamities  are  friends  :  as  glaring  day 

Of  these  unnumber'd  lustres  robs  our  sight, 

Prosperity  puts  out  unnumber'd  thoughts 

Of  import  high,  and  light  divine  to  man. 

The  man  how  bless'd,  who,  sick  of  gaudy  scenes,  31' 

(Scenes  apt  to  thrust  between  us  and  ourselves  !) 
Is  led  by  choice  to  take  his  fav'rite  walk 
Beneath  Death's  gloomy,  silent,  cypress  shades, 
Unpierced  by  Vanity's  fantastic  ray  ; 

To  read  his  monuments,  to  weigh  his  dust,  315 

Visit  his  vaults,  and  dwell  among  the  tombs  ! 
Lorenzo,  read  with  me  Narcissa's  stone  ; 
(Narcissa  was  thy  fav'rite !)  let  us  read 
Her  moral  stone  ;  few  doctors  preach  so  well ; 
Few  orators  so  tenderly  can  touch  320 

The  feeling  heart.     What  pathos  in  the  date ! 
Apt  words  can  strike ;  and  yet  in  them  we  see 
Faint  images  of  what  we  here  enjoy. 
What  cause  have  we  to  build  on  length  of  life  ? 
Temptations  seize  when  fear  is  laid  asleep,  325 

And  ill  foreboded  is  our  strongest  guard. 

DESCRIPTION    OF   TRUTH. 

See  from  her  tomb,  as  from  an  humble  shrine, 

307.  Lustres  :  Stars.  The  simile  here  employed  is  exceedingly  beautiful 
and  expressive.  Prosperity  is  compared  to  the  bright  sunshine  of  day, 
while  there  is  an  implied  comparison  of  adversity  to  the  darkness  of  night. 

SI 2.  Fav'rite  rvalk :  Dr.  Young  preferred  a  walk  in  the  church-yard  to 
one  in  any  other  locality.  (See  his  memoir.)  The  lines  312-16  describe 
bis  own  practice.  It  is  said  that  he  often  sat  whole  nights  in  winter  upon 
one  of  the  tombs  in  his  parish  church-yard  ! 

313.  "  Jubet  cupressos  funebres." — Hor. 

319.  Her  moral  stone  :  Her  moral  grave-stone  or  monument,  by  which 
he  means  probably  the  moral  lessons  communicated  by  the  early  date 
upon  her  monument  (321). 

326.  Ill  foreboded:  Evil  anticipated  or  apprehended. 
10 


23  8  TnE    COMPLAINT. 

Truth,  radiant  goddess,  sallies  on  my  soul, 

And  puts  delusion's  dusky  train  to  flight ; 

Dispels  the  mist  our  sultry  passions  raise  330 

From  objects  low,  terrestrial,  and  obscene, 

And  shows  the  real  estimate  of  things, 

"Which  no  man,  unafflicted,  ever  saw ; 

Pulls  off  the  veil  from  virtue's  rising  charms ; 

Detects  temptation  in  a  thousand  lies,  335 

Truth  bids  me  look  on  men  as  autumn  leaves, 

And  all  they  bleed  for,  as  the  summer's  dust 

Driven  by  the  whirlwind  :  lighted  by  her  beams, 

I  widen  my  horizon,  gain  new  pow'rs, 

See  things  invisible,  feel  things  remote,  340 

Am  present  with  futurities  :  think  nought 

To  man  so  foreign  as  the  joys  possess'd ; 

Nought  so  much  his  as  those  beyond  the  grave. 

HOW   WORLDLY   DIFFERS    FROM    DIVINE    WISDOM. 

No  folly  keeps  its  colour  in  her  sight ; 
Pale  worldly  wisdom  loses  all  her  charms  ;  345 

In  pompous  promise  from  her  schemes  profound, 
If  future  fate  she  plans,  'tis  all  in  leaves, 

343.  His:  Adapted  to  him.  The  foregoing  description  of  truth  takes 
rank  with  the  finest  pa-ssages  in  the  poem,  and  is  deserving  of  close  study. 

347-48.  In  leaves,  like  Sibyl :  The  Sibyls  were  certain  females  supposed  to 
be  inspired  to  deliver  predictions  of  future  events,  living  at  various  periods 
and  in  different  countries.  The  allusion  is  here  made  to  the  one  at  Cumac, 
in  Italy,  who  was  accustomed  to  write  her  predictions  on  leaves,  and  place 
them  at  the  entrance  of  her  cave ;  and  it  became  necessary  for  those  who 
consulted  her  to  lay  hold  of  these  leaves,  in  the  order  in  which  she  had 
placed  them,  before  the  wind  should  disturb  them,  and  thus  breaking  the 
connexion,  render  their  meaning  unintelligible. 

In  the  Third  Book  of  the  ^Eneid  the  circumstance  is  thus  des  Tibed — 
443—452. 

"Insanam  vatom  adspicies,  qnte  rape  pub  ima 
Fata  canit,  foliisque  notas  et  uomlna  maadat 
Qufficuinque  in  foliis  descripsit  carinina  virgo, 
Digerit  in  nuuiemin,  atque  antro  seclusa  relinqntt: 
Ilia  manent  immota  locis,  ncque.  ab  online  cednnt. 
Varum  eadern,  verso  tenuis  quum  cardinn  ventus 


NIGHT    V.  21'.) 

Like  Sibyl,  unsubstantial  fleeting  bliss  ! 

At  the  first  blast  it  vanishes  in  ah". 

Not  so,  celestial.     Would'st  thou  know,  Lorenzo,  350 

How  differ  worldly  wisdom  and  divine  ? 

Just  as  the  waning  and  the  waxing  moon  : 

More  empty  worldly  wisdom  ev'ry  day ; 

And  ev'ry  day  more  fair  her  rival  shines. 

When  later,  there's  less  time  to  play  the  fool.  355 

Soon  our  whole  term  for  wisdom  is  expired, 

(Thou  know'st  she  calls  no  council  in  the  grave) 

And  everlasting  fool  is  writ  in  fire, 

Or  real  wisdom  wafts  us  to  the  skies. 

As  worldly  schemes  resemble  Sibyl's  leaves,  360 

The  good  man's  days  to  Sibyl's  books  compare, 
(In  ancient  story  read,  thou  know'st  the  tale) 
In  price  still  rising  as  in  number  less, 
Inestimable  quite  his  final  hour. 

For  that,  who  thrones  can  offer,  offer  thrones ;  365 

Insolvent  worlds  the  purchase  cannot  pay. 

Impulit,  et  teneras  turbavit  janua  frondes, 
Nunquam  deinde  cavo  volitantia  prendere  saxo, 
Nee  revocare  situs,  aut  jungere  carmina  curat. 
Ineonsulti  abeunt,  sedemque  odere  sibyllse." 
So  in  the  sixth  Book,  74-6. 

"  Foliis  tantum  ne  carmina  manda, 
Ne  turbata  volent  rapidis  ludibria  veatis : 
Ipsa  canas,  oro." 

361.  Sibyl's  books  :  Allusion  is  here  made  to  an  interesting  Roman  legend 
connected  with  one  of  the  Sibyls,  which  we  will  give  in  the  words  of  Prof. 
Anthon.  She  came  to  the  palace  of  Tarquin  II.  with  nine  volumes,  which 
she  offered  to  sell  for  a  very  high  price.  The  monarch  declined  the  offer 
and  she  immediately  disappeared,  and  burned  three  of  the  volunes.  Return- 
ing soon  after,  she  asked  the  same  price  for  the  remaining  six  books ;  and, 
when  Tarquin  again  refused  to  buy  them,  she  burned  three  more,  and  still 
persisted  in  demanding  the  same  sum  of  money  for  the  three  that  were  left- 
This  extraordinary  behaviour  astonished  the  monarch,  anJ,  with  the  advice 
of  the  augurs,  he  bought  the  books  ;  upon  which  the  Sibyl  immediately  dis- 
appeared, and  was  never  seen  after.  Those  books  were  preserved  with 
great  care,  and  called  the  Sibylline  verses.  A  college  of  priests  was  appointed 
to  have  charge  of  them,  and  they  were  consulted  with  the  greatest  solemnity 
when  the  state  seemed  to  be  in  danger. 


220  THE    COMPLAINT. 

'  Oh,  let  me  die  his  death  !'  all  nature  cries. 

'  Then  live  his  life.' — All  nature  falters  there ; 

Our  great  physician  daily  to  consult, 

To  commune  with  the  grave,  our  only  cure.   *  370 

What  grave  prescribes  the  best  ? — A  friend's  ;  and  yet 
From  a  friend's  grave  how  soon  we  disengage  ! 
E'en  to  the  dearest,  as  his  marble,  cold. 
Why  are  friends  ravish'd  from  us  ?     'Tis  to  bind, 
By  soft  affection's  ties,  on  human  hearts  375 

The  thought  of  death,  which  reason,  too  supine, 
Or  misemploy'd,  so  rarely  fastens  there. 
Nor  reason,  nor  affection,  no,  nor  both 
Combined,  can  break  the  -witchcrafts  of  the  world. 
Behold  th'  inexorable  hour  at  hand !  380 

Behold  th'  inexorable  hour  forgot ! 
&nd  to  forget  it  the  chief  aim  of  life, 
Though  well  to  ponder  it  is  life's  chief  end. 

DEATH,  EVER  AN  UNEXPECTED  GUEST. 

Is  death,  that  ever  threat'ning,  ne'er  remote, 
That  all-important,  and  that  only  sure,  385 

(Come  when  he  will)  an  unexpected  guest  ? 
Nay,  though  invited  by  the  loudest  calls 
Of  blind  imprudence,  unexpected  still ; 
Thouo-h  num'rous  messengers  are  sent  before 
To  warn  his  great  arrival.     What  the  cause,  390 

The  wondrous  cause,  of  this  mysterious  ill  ? 
All  heav'n  looks  down,  astonish'd  at  the  sight. 

Is  it  that  life  has  sown  her  joys  so  thick, 
We  can't  thrust  in  a  single  care  between  ? 
Is  it  that  life  has  such  a  swarm  of  cares,  395 

The  thought  of  death  can't  enter  for  the  throng  ? 
Is  it  that  time  steals  on  with  downy  feet, 
Nor  wakes  indulgence  from  her  golden  drearn  ? 

367.  This  was  the  language  of  Balaam — "  Let  me  die  the  death  of  the 
righteous,  and  let  rnv  last  f>nd  be  like  his." — Numb.  2.3  :  10. 


KIGHT    V.  22 J 

To-day  is  so  like  yesterday  it  cheats  : 

"We  take  tlie  lying  sister  for  the  same.  400 

Life  glides  away,  Lorenzo,  like  a  brook, 

For  ever  changing,  nnperceived  the  change. 

In  the  same  brook  none  ever  bathed  him  twice ; 

To  the  same  life  none  ever  twice  awoke. 

We  call  the  brook  the  same  ;  the  same  we  think  405 

Our  life,  though  still  more  rapid  in  its  flow  ; 

Nor  mark  the  much,  irrevocably  lapsed, 

And  mingled  with  the  sea.     Or  shall  we  say 

(Retaining  still  the  brook  to  bear  us  on,) 

That  life  is  like  a  vessel  on  the  stream  ?  410 

In  life  embark' d,  we  smoothly  down  the  tide 

Of  time  descend,  but  not  on  time  intent ; 

Amused,  unconscious  of  the  gliding  wave  ; 

Till  on  a  sudden  we  perceive  a  shock  : 

TVe  start,  awake,  look  out ;  what  see  we  there  ?  415 

Our  brittle  bark  is  burst  on  Charon's  shore. 

Is  this  the  cause  death  flies  all  human  thought  ? 
Or  is  it  judgment,  by  the  will  struck  blind, 
That  domineering  mistress  of  the  soul ! 

401.  Like  a  brook:  What  can  be  more  beautiful,  more  striking,  more  per- 
fect, than  this  watery  image  of  human  life  ? 
407.  Lapsed :  Passed  away. 

416.  Charon's  shore:  The  shore  of  death.  The  author  here  alludes  10 
the  Roman  story  of  one  of  the  deities  of  the  lower  world  whose  office  it  was 
to  conduct  the  souls  of  deceased  men  in  a  boat  across  the  Stygian  lake  to 
receive  sentence  from  the  judges  of  Pluto's  gloomy  dominions.  He  received 
for  this  service  an  obolus  from  each  passenger ;  and  hence  the  ancients  were 
careful  to  put  this  sum  of  money  in  the  mouth  of  their  deceased  friends 

Charon  is  thus  described  by  Virgil,  in  his  ^Eneid,  Bk.  VI.  298—304. 

Portitor  has  horrendus  aquas  et  flumtna  servat 
Terribili  squalore  Charon :  cui  plurima  mento 
Canities  inculta  jacet ;  stant  lumina  flamma ; 
Sordidus  ex  humeris  nodo  dependet  amictus. 
Ipse  ratem  conto  snbigit,  velisquc  ministrat, 
Et  ferruginea  subvectat  corpora  cymb'a ; 
Jam  senior,  sed  cruda  deo  viriilisque  senectus. 
Hue  omnis  turba  ad  ripas, 


222  THE    COMPLAINT. 

Like  him  so  strong,  by  Delilah  the  fair  ?  420 

Or  is  it  fear  turns  startled  reason  back, 

From  looking  down  a  precipice  so  steep  ? 

'Tis  dreadful ;  and  the  dread  is  wisely  placed, 

By  nature,  conscious  of  the  make  of  man. 

A  dreadful  friend  it  is,  a  terror  kind,  t'2"> 

A  flaming  sword,  to  guard  the  tree  of  life. 

By  that  unawed,  in  life's  most  smiling  hour, 

The  good  man  would  repine ;  would  suffer  joys, 

And  burn  impatient  for  his  promised  skies. 

The  bad,  on  each  punctilious  pique  of  pride,  430 

Or  gloom  of  humour,  would  give  rage  the  rein ; 

Bound  o'er  the  barrier,  rush  into  the  dark, 

And  mar  the  schemes  of  Providence  below. 

BRITAIN    INFAMOUS    FOR    SELF-MURDERS. 

What  groan  was  that,  Lorenzo  ? — Furies  !  rise ; 
A.nd  drown  in  your  less  execrable  yell,  435 

Britannia's  shame.     There  took  her  gloomy  flight, 
On  wing  impetuous,  a  black  sullen  soul, 
Blasted  from  hell,  with  horrid  lust  of  death. 
Thy  friend,  the  brave,  the  gallant  Altamont, 
So  call'd,  so  thought, — and  then  he  fled  the  field.  440 

Less  base  the  fear  of  death  than  fear  of  life. 
0  Britain  !  infamous  for  suicide  ! 
An  island,  in  thy  manners,  far  disjoin'd 
From  the  whole  world  of  ration  als  beside  ! 
In  ambient  waves  plunge  thy  polluted  head,  445 

Wash  the  dire  stain,  nor  shock  the  continent. 

420.  JCike  him,  &c.  :  The  allusion  to  Samson,  the  Hebrew,  will  easily  be 
recognized. 

426.  A  flaming  sword:  Language  copied  from  Gen.  3  :  24. 

428.  Suffer  Joys:  Would  endure  earthly  joys,  but  not  relish  them,  through 
his  impatience  for  those  of  his  promised  skies. 

432.  Rush  info  I  he  dark :  Commit  self-murder. 

445.  In  ambient  tvaves  :  In  the  waves  that  encompass  thee. 


NIGHT  v.  223 

But  thou  be  shock'd,  while  I  detect  the  cause 
Of  self-assault,  expose  the  monster's  birth, 
And  bid  abhorrence  hiss  it  round  the  world. 
Blame  not  thy  clime,  nor  chide  the  distant  sun  ;  450 

The  sun  is  innocent,  thy  clime  absolved  ; 
Immoral  climes  kind  nature  never  made. 
The  cause  I  sing  in  Eden  might  prevail ; 
And  proves  it  is  thy  folly,  not  thy  fate. 

The  soul  of  man,  (let  man  in  homage  bow  455 

"Who  names  his  soul,)  a  native  of  the  skies ! 
High-born  and  free,  her  freedom  should  maintain, 
Unsold,  unmortgaged  for  earth's  little  bribes. 
Th'  illustrious  stranger,  in  this  foreign  land, 
Like  strangers,  jealous  of  her  dignity,  460 

Studious  of  home,  and  ardent  to  return, 
Of  earth  suspicious,  earth's  enchanted  cup 
With  cool  reserve  light  touching,  should  indulge 
On  immortality  her  godlike  taste ; 
There  take  large  draughts  ;  make  her  chief  banquet  there.  465 

But  some  reject  this  sustenance  divine  ; 
To  beggarly  vile  appetites  descend ; 
Ask  alms  of  earth  for  guests  that  came  from  heav'n ; 
Sink  into  slaves  ;  and  sell  for  present  hire 
Their  rich  reversion,  and  (what  shares  its  fate)  470 

Their  native  freedom  to  the  prince  who  sways 
This  nether  world.     And  when  his  payments  fail, 
When  his  foul  basket  gorges  them  no  more, 
Or  their  pall'd  palates  loathe  the  basket  full, 
Are  instantly,  with  wild  demoniac  rage,  475 

For  breaking  all  the  chains  of  Providence  ; 
And  bursting  their  confinement,  though  fast  barr'd  -~ 

By  laws  divine  and  human ;  guarded  strong 

449.  Abhorrence :  This  word  is  well  personified  here. 
451.  Absolved:  Free  from  blame. 

470.  Reversion :  Title  to  future  enjoyments  and  possessions. 

471.  Prince:  Satan.     See  Ephes.  2:2.     2  Cor.  4  :  4. 


224  THE    COMPLAINT. 

With  horrors  double  to  defend  the  pass, 

The  blackest,  nature  or  dire  guilt  can  raise  ;  480 

And  moated  round  with  fathomless  destruction, 

Sure  to  receive,  and  whelm  them  in  their  fall. 

Such,  Britons  !  is  the  cause,  to  you  unknown, 
Or,  worse,  o'erlook'd  ;  o'erlook'd  by  magistrates, 
Thus  criminals  themselves.     I  grant  the  deed  485 

Is  madness ;  but  the  madness  of  the  heart. 
And  what  is  that  ?     Our  utmost  bound  of  guilt. 
A  sensual  unreflecting  life  is  big 
With  monstrous  births ;  and  suicide,  to  crown 
The  black  infernal  brood.     The  bold  to  break  490 

Heav'n's  law  supreme,  and  desperately  rush 
Through  sacred  nature's  murder  on  their  own, 
Because  they  never  think  of  death,  they  die. 
'Tis  equally  man's  duty,  glory,  gain, 
At  once  to  shun  and  meditate  his  end.  495 

THE    SOLEMN    DEATH-SCENE. 

When  by  the  bed  of  languishment  we  sit, 
(The  seat  of  wisdom  !  if  our  choice,  not  fate) 
Or  o'er  our  dying  friends  in  anguish  hang, 
Wipe  the  cold  dew,  or  stay  the  sinking  head, 
Number  their  moments,  and  in  ev'ry  clock  600 

Start  at  the  voice  of  an  eternity ; 
See  the  dim  lamp  of  life  just  feebly  lift 
An  agonizing  beam,  at  us  to  gaze, 
Then  sink  again,  and  quiver  into  death, 

That  most  pathetic  herald  of  our  own  ;  505 

How  read  we  such  sad  scenes  ?     As  sent  to  man 
In  perfect  vengeance  ?     No  ;  in  pity  sent, 
To  melt  him  down,  like  wax,  and  then  impress, 
Indelible,  death's  image  on  his  heart ; 

Bleeding  for  others,  trembling  for  himself.  510 

We  bteed,  we  tremble,  we  forget,  we  smile. 
The  mind  turns  fool  before  the  cheek  is  dry. 


NIGHT    V.  225 

Our  quick-returning  folly  cancels  all ; 
As  the  tide  rushing  rases  what  is  writ 
In  yielding  sands,  and  smoothes  the  letter'd  shore.  515 

THE    PHILOSOPHY    OF   TEARS  ;    THEIR    CAUSE. 

Lorenzo  ?  hast  thou  ever  weigh'd  a  sigh  ? 
Or  studied  the  philosophy  of  tears  ? 
(A  science  yet  unlectured  in  our  schools !) 
Hast  thou  descended  deep  into  the  breast, 
And  seen  their  source  ?     If  not,  descend  with  me,  520 

And  trace  these  briny  riv'lets  to  their  springs. 

Our  fun'ral  tears  from  diff 'rent  causes  rise : 
As  if  from  separate  cisterns  in  the  soul, 
Of  various  kinds  they  flow.     From  tender  hearts, 
By  soft  contagion  call'd,  some  burst  at  once,  525 

And  stream  obsequious  to  the  leading  eye. 
Some  ask  more  time,  by  curious  art  distill'd. 
Some  hearts,  in  secret  hard,  unapt  to  melt, 
Struck  by  the  magic  of  the  public  eye, 

Like  Moses'  smitten  rock,  gush  out  amain.  530 

Some  weep  to  share  the  fame  of  the  deceased, 
So  high  in  merit,  and  to  them  so  dear  : 
They  dwell  on  praises  which  they  think  they  share ; 
And  thus,  without  a  blush,  commend  themselves. 
Some  mourn  in  proof  that  something  they  could  love  :        535 
They  weep  not  to  relieve  their  grief,  but  show. 

517.  The  philosophy  of  tears :  A  scientific  method  of  accounting  for  them ; 
of  explaining  their  causes  and  effects.  The  author  first  treats  of  "funeral" 
tears,  and  assigns  no  less  than  nine  several  causes,  or  occasions,  or  motives. 
(1)  A  natural  tenderness  and  sympathy  with  persons  in  distress  (525-26) ; 
(2) .  Some  weep  under  the  influence  of  the  public  eye  who  would  not  if  left 
in  private  (527-30) ;  (3) .  A  desire  to  share  the  fame  of  the  deceased  by 
thus  seeming  to  manifest  a  near  relation  (531-34);  (4).  Some  weep  not  to 
relieve  but  to  show  grief,  thus  indicating  that  there  is  something  they  can 
love  (535-36) ;  (5).  See  537-38;  (6).  539-40;  (7).  547-48;  (8).  549-50; 
(9).  551-56. 

530.   Smittenrock:  Exod.  17  :  6.     Psalm  105  :  41. 
10* 


226  THE    COMPLAINT. 

Some  weep  in  perfect  justice  to  the  dead, 

As  conscious  all  their  love  is  in  arrear. 

Some  mischievously  weep,  not  unapprised, 

Tern-s  sometimes  aid  the  conquest  of  an  eye.  540 

With  what  address  the  soft  Ephesians  draw 

Their  sable  net-work  o'er  entangled  hearts  ! 

As  seen  through  crystal,  how  their  roses  glow, 

While  liquid  pearl  runs  trickling  down  their  cheek ! 

Of  hers  not  prouder  Egypt's  wanton  queen,  545 

541.  The  persons  here  described  are  compared  to  artful  and  fascinating 
Ephesian  females ;  who  were  distinguished  for  the  elegant  refinement  of 
their  manners,  and  for  the  seductive  arts  that  encourage  and  stimulate 
vicious  indulgence.  Ephesus,  the  capital  of  Ionia,  in  Asia  Minor,  is  situated 
in  a  mild  and  enervating  climate.  It  was  once  a  populous  city,  but  has  long 
since  been  reduced  to  a  heap  of  ruins. 

545.  Egypt's  wanton  queen :  Cleopatra,  remarkable  for  her  beauty,  her 
powers  in  music  and  conversation,  her  fascinating  manners,  and  voluptuous 
intrigues  with  Caesar  and  Antony.  The  act  of  carousing  gems,  was  the 
shameful  extravagance  imputed  to  her  in  one  of  the  feasts  which  she  gave 
to  Antony,  of  dissolving  in  vinegar  a  pearl  of  priceless  value  and  then  drink- 
ing it.  She  did  this  to  sustain  her  boast  to  Antony  that,  expensive  and  mag- 
nificent as  her  former  entertainments  had  been,  she  could  prepare  one  that 
should  be  worth  a  sum,  which  in  our  currency  would  equal  two  hundred 
and  fifty  thousand  dollars-  She  made  good  her  boast  by  drinking  in  the  way 
mentioned,  one  of  the  richest  pearls  ever  seen,  and  which  she  had  used  as  an 
ear  ornament. 

Some  idea  of  her  address,  wantonness,  pomp,  and  magnificence,  may  be 
formed  by  reading  the  account  of  her  sail  down  the  river  Cydnus,  and  of  her 
landing  at  Tarsus,  where  Antony  had  prepared  to  meet  her,  the  object  of  his 
most  passionate  love.  Dryden's  account  of  the  gorgeous  display  is  scarcely 
an  exaggeration,  as  to  facts,  of  the  scene  as  recorded  by  ancient  historians, 
and  will  please  every  reader  by  the  surpassing  beauty  of  its  versification. 
Shakspeare  has  also  described  the  scene  in  his  "  Antony  and  Cleopatra ;" 
but  not  so  finely  as  Dryden. 

"  Iler  galley  down  the  silver  Cydnus  row'd 
The  tackling,  silk,  the  streamers  wav'd  with  gold, 
The  gentle  winds  were  lodg'd  in  purple  sails  : 
Her  nymphs,  like  Nereids,  round  her  couch  were  plac'd, 
"Where  she,  another  sea-horn  Venus  lay — 
She  lay,  and  leant  her  cheek  upon  her  hand, 
And  cast  a  look  so  languishingly  sweet, 
As  if,  secure  of  all  beholders'  hearts, 


NIGHT    V.  227 

Carousing  gems,  herself  dissolved  in  love. 
Some  weep  at  death,  abstracted  from  the  dead, 
And  celebrate,  like  Charles,  their  own  decease. 
By  kind  construction  some  are  deem'd  to  weep, 
Because  a  decent  veil  conceals  their  joy.  550 

Some  weep  in  earnest,  and  yet  weep  in  vain : 

Neglecting  she  could  take  'em :  boys,  like  Cupids, 

Stood  fanning  with  their  painted  wings  the  'winds 

That  play'd  about  her  face :  but  if  she  smil'd, 

A  darting  glory  seem'd  to  blaze  abroad ; 

That  man"s  desiring  eyes  were  never  wearied, 

But  hung  upon  the  object :  To  soft  flutes 

The  silver  oars  kept  time :  and  while  they  play'd, 

The  hearing  gave  new  pleasure  to  the  sight, 

And  both  to  thought    'Twas  heaven,  or  somewhat  more ; 

For  she  so  charm"d  all  hearts,  that  gazing  crowds 

Stood  panting  on  the  shore,  and  wanted  breath 

To  give  their  welcome  voice." 

548.  Like  Charles,  their  own  decease :  Charles  V.  of  Germany  and  Spain, 
one  of  the  most  powerful  of  monarchs.  and  of  most  extensive  sway,  aston- 
ished the  world  by  abdicating  his  throne  and  retiring  to  the  monastery  of 
St.  Justus,  in  Spain,  where  he  passed  the  last  two  or  three  years  of  his  life, 
in  reading,  in  rural  exercises,  and  religious  devotions.  About  six  months 
before  his  death  his  constitution  was  shattered  by  a  violent  attack  of  the 
gout  and  his  mind  became  impaired  with  his  body.  He  gave  himself  up  to 
monastic  severities,  and  even  to  self-flagellation,  as  an  atonement  for  his 
crimes,  according  to  the  Roman  Catholic  faith  which  he  embraced.  Not 
satisfied  with  this  he  performed  what  he  considered  a  more  effectual  act  for 
securing  the  favour  of  heaven,  and  which  Dr.  Young,  in  the  text,  alludes  to. 
He  resolved  to  celebrate  his  own  obsequies  before  his  death.  Says  Dr.  Ro- 
bertson, he  ordered  his  tomb  to  be  erected  in  the  chapel  of  the  monastery. 
His  domestics  marched  thither  in  funeral  procession,  with  black  tapers  in 
their  hands.  He  himself  followed  in  his  shroud.  He  was  laid  in  his  coffin 
with  much  solemnity.  The  service  for  the  dead  was  chanted,  and  Charles 
joined  in  the  prayers  which  were  offered  up  for  the  rest  of  his  soul,  mingling 
his  tears  with  those  which  his  attendants  shed,  as  if  they  had  been  cele- 
brating a  real  funeral.  The  ceremony  closed  with  sprinkling  holy  water  on 
the  coffin  in  the  usual  form,  and  all  the  assistants  retiring,  the  doors  of  the 
chapel  were  shut.  Then  Charles  rose  out  of  the  coffin,  and  withdrew  to  his 
apartment,  full  of  those  awful  sentiments  which  such  a  singular  solemnity 
was  calculated  to  inspire.  But  either  the  fatiguing  length  of  the  ceremony, 
or  the  impression  which  this  image  of  death  left  upon  his  mind,  affected  him 
so  much  that  next  day  he  was  seized  with  a  fever,  the  violence  of  which  hii 
feeble  frame  could  not  long  resist. 


228  THE    COMPLAINT. 

As  deep  in  indiscretion  as  in  wo. 

Passion,  blind  passion,  impotently  pours 

Tears  that  deserve  more  tears,  while  Reason  sleeps, 

Or  gazes,  like  an  idiot,  unconcern'd,  555 

Nor  comprehends  the  meaning  of  the  storm  ; 

Knows  not  it  speaks  to  her,  and  her  alone. 

Irrationals  all  sorrow  are  beneath, 

That  noble  gift !  that  privilege  of  man  ! 

From  sorrow's  pang,  the  birth  of  endless  joy.  5G0 

But  these  are  ban-en  of  that  birth  divine : 

They  weep  impetuous  as  the  summer  storm, 

And  full  as  short !  the  cruel  grief  soon  tamed, 

They  make  a  pastime  of  the  stingless  tale ; 

Far  as  the  deep-resounding  knell,  they  spread  565 

The  dreadful  news,  and  hardly  feel  it  more  : 

No  gain  of  wisdom  pays  them  for  their  wo. 

Half  round  the  globe,  the  tears  pump'd  up  by  death 
Are  spent  in  wat'ring  vanities  of  life ; 

In  making  folly  nourish  still  more  fair,  570 

When  the  sick  soul,  her  wonted  stay  withdrawn, 
Reclines  on  earth,  and  sorrows  in  the  dust, 
Instead  of  learning  there  her  true  support, 
Tho'  there  thrown  down  her  true  support  to  learn, 
Without  Heav'n's  aid,  impatient  to  be  blest,  575 

She  crawls  to  the  next  shrub  or  bramble  vile, 
Though  from  the  stately  cedar's  arms  she  fell ; 
With  stale  forsworn  embraces  clings  anew, 

553.  Impotently  pours  :  Without  self-control  pours  tears. 

568.  Tears  pumped  up,  &c.  :  This  figure  is  ingenious,  but  far-fetched  ;  yet 
as  it  strongly  illustrates  the  idea  intended  to  be  conveyed,  we  are  not  pre- 
pared to  condemn  the  use  of  it  as  some  have  done. 

571.  The  sick  soul:  It  should  be  observed  that  the  sick  soul  is  beautifully 
described,  from  this  to  the  380th  line,  under  the  figure  of  a  vine,  that  has 
been  torn  from  a  strong  and  lofty  tree,  the  cedar,  and  then  crawls  to  a  con- 
temptible shrub  or  bramble.  In  lines  581-82,  the  figure  becomes  faulty, 
and  displeasing  to  good  tasle.  These  lines  should  have  been  omitted.  It  is 
not  the  property  of  a  vine  to  present  a  tceed  to  appear  at  a  ball,  or  to  raffle 
that  is,  throw  dice  for  a  prize. 


NIGHT   V.  229 

The  stranger  weds,  and  blossoms,  as  before, 

In  all  the  fruitless  fopperies  of  life  ;  580 

Presents  her  weed,  well  fancied,  at  the  ball, 

And  raffles  for  the  death's-head  on  the  ring. 

FALSE    AND    TRUE    GRIEF. 

So  wept  Aurelia,  till  the  destined  youth 
Stept  in  with  his  receipt  for  making  smiles, 
And  blanching  sables  into  bridal  bloom.  585 

So  wept  Lorenzo  fair  Clarissa's  fate, 
"Who  gave  that  angel  boy  on  whom  he  doats ; 
And  died  to  give  him,  orphan'd  in  his  birth ! 
Not  such,  Xareissa,  my  distress  for  thee  ; 
I'll  make  an  altar  of  thy  sacred  tomb,  590 

To  sacrifice  to  wisdom.     What  wast  thou  ? 
'  Young,  gay,  and  fortunate  !'     Each  yields  a  theme  : 

582.  The  prize  in  this  ease  of  raffling  was  a  death's  head  on  a  ring. 
Shakspeare  in  his  second  part  of  Henry  IV.  introduces  Falstaff  as  saying, 

"  Peace,  good  Doll !  do  not  speak  like  a  death's 
Head :  do  not  bid  me  remember  mine  end." 

One  of  his  annotators,  Stevens,  appends  the  following  note  which  will 
equally  well  illustrate  the  line  of  our  own  author. 

It  appears  from  the  following  passage  in  Marston's  "  Dutch  Cour.tezan," 
1605,  that  it  was  the  custom  for  the  bawds  of  that  age  to  wear  a  death's 
head  in  a  ring,  very  probably  with  the  common  motto,  memento  mart.  Co- 
cledemoy,  speaking  of  some  of  these,  says:  "As  for  their  death,  how  can  it 
be  bad,  since  their  wickedness  is  always  before  their  eyes,  and  a  death's 
head  most  commonly  on  their  middle  finger." 

Again,  in  Massinger's  "Old  Law," — "Sell  some  of  my  clothes  to  buy 
thee  a  death's  head,  and  put  it  on  thy  middle  finger :  your  least  considering 
bawds  do  so  much." 

583.  Jlurdia, :  A  fictitious  name,  representing  one  of  a  particular  class  of 
persons. 

585.  Blanching  sables,  &c.  :  Whitening  garments  of  mourning  into  those 
of  bridal  beauty  and  attractiveness. 

586.  Clarissa  :  Probably  the  wife,  or  mistress,  of  the  profligate  Lorenzo. 

592.  Young,  gay.  and  fortunate :  Those  attributes,  respectively,  are  illus- 
trated at  length  in  the  following  lines :  the  first,  from  598  to  777 :  the  second 
irom  778  to  901 :  the  third,  from  902  to  1032. 


230  THE    COMPLAINT. 

I'll  dwell  on  each,  to  shun  thought  more  .severe  ; 

(Heav'n  knows  I  labour  with  severer  still !) 

I'll  dwell  on  each,  and  quite  exhaust  thy  death.  505 

A  soul  without  reflection,  like  a  pile 

Without  inhabitant,  to  ruin  runs. 

And,  first,  thy  youth  :  what  says  it  to  grey  hairs  ? 
Narcissa,  I'm  become  thy  pupil  now, — 

Early,  bright,  transient,  chaste,  as  morning  dew,  600 

She  sparkled,  was  exhaled,  and  went  to  heav'n. 
Time  on  this  head  has  snow'd,  yet  still  'tis  borne 
Aloft,  nor  thinks  but  on  another's  grave. 
Cover'd  with  shame  I  speak  it,  age  severe 
Old  worn-out  vice  sets  down  for  virtue  fair  ;  605 

With  graceless  gravity  chastising  youth, 
That  youth  chastis'd  surpassing  in  a  fault, 
Father  of  all,  forgetfulness  of  death  ! 
As  if,  like  objects  pressing  on  the  sight, 

Death  had  advanced  too  near  us  to  be  seen ;  610 

Or  that  life's  loan  time  ripen'd  into  right, 
And  men  might  plead  prescription  from  the  grave ; 
Deathless,  from  repetition  of  reprieve. 
Deathless  ?  far  from  it !  such  are  dead  already  ; 
Then-  hearts  are  buried,  and  the  world  their  grave.  615 

DEATH    IS    PLACED    AT    A    DISTANCE. 

Tell  me,  some  god  !  my  guardian  angel,  tell 
What  thus  infatuates  1  what  enchantment  plants 
The  phantom  of  an  age  'twixt  us  and  death, 

600.  As  morning  dew :  The  sparkling  beauty  of  this  comparison  deserves 
notice  and  admiration. 

602.  Snow'd :  Another  figurative  expression,  representing  the  act  of  cov- 
ering the  head  with  hair  of  snowy  whiteness. 

612.  Prescription :  A  right  to  the  continued  possession  of  life  founded  on 
past  possession  of  it ;  and  thus  a  right  to  be  exempted  from  death. 

616.  Some  god:  An  expression  to  be  justified  in  a  Christian  poet  only  by 
supposing  that  he  uses  it  in  the  sense  of  angel,  of  some  celestial  being  supe- 
rior to  man. 


NIGHT    V.  231 

Already  at  the  door  ?     He  knocks  ;  we  hear, 

And  vet  we  will  not  hear.     What  mail  defends  6 '20 

Our  untouch'd  hearts  •  what  miracle  turns  off 

The  pointed  thought,  which  from  a  thousand  quivers 

Is  daily  darted,  and  is  daily  shunn'd  ? 

We  stand,  as  in  a  battle,  throngs  on  throngs 

Around  us  falling,  wounded  oft  ourselves;  625 

Though  bleeding  with  our  wounds,  immortal  still ! 

We  see  time's  furrows  on  another's  brow, 

And  death,  intrench'd,  preparing  his  assault : 

How  few  themselves  in  that  just  mirror  see  ! 

Or,  seeing,  draw  their  inference  as  strong  !  630 

There  death  is  certain  ;  doubtful  here  :  he  must, 

And  soon :  we  mav,  within  an  age,  expire. 

Though  grey  our  heads,  our  thoughts  and  aims  are  green  ! 

Like  damaged  clocks,  whose  hand  and  bell  dissent ; 

Folly  sings  six,  while  nature  points  at  twelve.  635 

ABSCRD    LONGEVITY. 

Absurd  longevity  !     More,  more,  it  cries  : 
More  life,  more  wealth,  more  trash  of  ev'ry  kind. 
And  wherefore  mad  for  more,  when  relish  fails  ? 
Object  and  appetite  must  club  for  joy  ; 

Shall  folly  labour  hard  to  mend  the  bow,  640 

Baubles,  I  mean,  that  strike  us  from  without, 
While  nature  is  relaxing  ev'ry  string  ? 
A~k  thought  for  joy  ;  grow  rich,  and  hoard  within. 

630.  As  strong:  As  in  the  case  of  others. 

632 .  And  soon  (expire) . 

633.  Are  green :  A  singular  epithet  to  be  applied  to  thoughts  and  aims, 
especially  in  contrast  with  the  white  hair  of  old  age.  It  excites  rather  a 
ludicrous  idea  in  the  mind ;  and  the  true  idea  does  not  readily  occur.  The 
author  means  to  say  that  the  thoughts  and  aims  of  the  aged  are  such  as  be- 
come only  those  of  an  earlier  period  in  life,  being  green  and  vigorous  like  the 
leaves  in  spring  or  summer.  The  next  comparison  of  the  aged  to  damaged 
clocks  is  ingenious  and  expressive. 

639.  Club  for  joy:  unite  in  order  to  produce  joy. 


232  THE    COMPLAINT. 

Think  you  the  soul,  when  this  life's  rattles  ceasa, 

Has  nothing  of  more  manly  to  succeed?  645 

Contract  the  taste  immortal :  learn  e'en  now 

To  relish  what  alone  subsists  hereafter. 

Divine,  or  none,  henceforth,  your  joys  for  ever. 

Of  age  the  glory  is,  to  wish  to  die  : 

That  wish  is  praise  and  promise  ;  it  applauds  650 

Past  life,  and  promises  our  future  bliss. 

What  weakness  see  not  children  in  their  sires  ! 

Grand-climacterical  absurdities ! 

Grey-hair'd  authority,  to  faults  of  youth 

How  shocking  !  it  makes  folly  thrice  a  fool ;  655 

And  our  first  childhood  might  our  last  despise. 

Peace  and  esteem  is  all  that  age  can  hope  ; 

Nothing  but  wisdom  gives  the  first ;  the  last 

Nothing  but  the  repute  of  being  wise. 

Folly  bars  both :  our  age  is  quite  undone.  660 

What  folly  can  be  ranker  ?     Like  our  shadows, 
Our  wishes  lengthen  as  our  sun  declines. 
No  wish  should  loiter,  then,  this  side  the  grave. 
Our  hearts  should  leave  the  world  before  the  knell 
Calls  for  our  carcases  to  mend  the  soil.  665 

Enough  to  live  in  tempest,  die  in  port ; 
Age  should  fly  concourse,  cover  in  retreat 
Defects  of  judgment,  and  the  will    subdue  ; 
Walk  thoughtful  on  the  silent  solemn  shore 
Of  that  vast  ocean  it  must  sail  so  soon,  670 

And  put  good  works  on  board,  and  wait  the  wind 

646.  Contract,  &c.  :  Acquire  a  taste  for  immortal  things. 

653.  Grand-climacterical:  Climacteric  denotes  a  critical  period  in  life  when 
great  changes  occur:  the  grand  climacteric  is  the  sixty-third  year.  The 
absurdities  of  that  period  and  those  beyond  it  are  here  censured. 

661.  Like  our  shadows,  &c.  :  The  comparison  is  as  beautiful  as  it  is  im- 
portant in  its  meaning. 

667.  Retreat:  Retirement. 

671.  The  direction  put  goodivorks  on  board  is  too  commercial  and  undigni- 
fied to  comport  with  the  lofty  thoughts  awakened  by  the  other  parts  of  this 
most  beautiful  passage. 


SIGHT    V.  233 

That  shortly  blows  us  into  worlds  unknown  : 
If  unconsider'd,  too,  a  dreadful  scene  ! 

THE   THOUGHT    OF   DEATH    USEFUL. 

All  should  be  prophets  to  themselves  ;  foresee 
Their  future  fate  ;  their  future  fate  foretaste  :  675 

This  art  would  waste  the  bitterness  of  death. 
The  thought  of  death  alone  the  fear  destroys : 
A  disaffection  to  that  precious  thought 
Is  more  than  midnight  darkness  on  the  soul, 
Which  sleeps  beneath  it  on  a  precipice,  680 

Puff 'd  off  by  the  first  blast,  and  lost  for  ever. 

Dost  ask,  Lorenzo,  why  so  warmly  prest, 
By  repetition  hammer'd  on  thine  ear, 
The  thought  of  death  ?     That  thought  is  the  machine, 
The  grand  machine,  that  heaves  us  from  the  dust,  685 

And  rears  us  into  men  !     That  thought  ply'd  home, 
Will  soon  reduce  the  ghastly  precipice 
O'erhanging  hell,  will  soften  the  descent, 
And  gently  slope  our  passage  to  the  grave. 
How  warmly  to  be  wish'd  !  what  heart  of  flesh  690 

Would  trifle  with  tremendous  ?  dare  extremes  ? 
Yawn  o'er  the  fate  of  infinite  ?  what  hand, 
Beyond  the  blackest  brand  of  censure  bold, 
(To  speak  a  language  too  well  known  to  thee) 
Would  at  a. moment  give  its  all  to  chance,  695 

And  stamp  the  die  for  an  eternity  ? 

Aid  me,  Narcissa  !  aid  me  to  keep  pace 
With  destiny,  and  ere  her  scissors  cut 
My  thread  of  life,  to  break  this  tougher  thread 
Of  moral  death,  that  ties  me  to  the  world.  700 

Sting  thou  my  slumb'ring  reason  to  send  forth 

688.  Hell :  Used  here  in  the  old  English  sense  of  grave. 

698.  Scissors :  An  allusion  to  the  classical  fable  of  the  Fates,  or  Destinies 
according  to  which  the  thread  of  life  is  cut  by  Atropos,  one  of  the  three  sis- 
ters.    The  (able  is  explained  in  a  note  upon  3S1,  Night  I. 


234  THE    COMPLAINT. 

A  thought  of  observation  on  the  foe  ; 

To  sally,  and  survey  the  rapid  march 

Of  his  ten  thousand  messengers  to  man  : 

Who,  Jehu-like,  behind  him  turns  them  all.  705 

All  accident  apart,  by  nature  sign'd, 

My  warrant  is  gone  out,  though  dormant  yet ; 

Perhaps  behind  one  moment  lurks  my  fate. 

Must  I  then  forward  only  look  for  death  ? 
Backward  I  turn  mine  eye,  and  find  him  there.  710 

Man  is  a  self-survivor  ev'ry  year. 
Man,  like  a  stream,  is  in  perpetual  flow. 
Death's  a  destroyer  of  quotidian  prey : 
My  youth,  my  noontide,  his  ;  my  yesterday  ; 
The  bold  invader  shares  the  present  hour.  715 

Each  moment  on  the  former  shuts  the  grave. 
"While  man  is  growing,  life  is  in  decrease, 
And  cradles  rock  us  nearer  to  the  tomb. 
Our  birth  is  nothing  but  our  death  begun, 
As  tapers  waste  that  instant  they  take  fire.  720 

Shall  we  then  fear,  lest  that  should  come  to  pass, 
Which  comes  to  pass  each  moment  of  our  lives  ? 
If  fear  we  must,  let  that  death  turn  us  pale 
Which  murders  strength  and  ardour  ;  what  remains 
Should  rather  call  on  death,  than  dread  his  call.  725 

Ye  partners  of  my  fault,  and  my  decline  ! 
Thoughtless  of  death,  but  when  your  neighbour's  knell 
(Rude  visitant)  knocks  hard  at  your  dull  sense, 
And  with  its  thunder  scarce  obtains  your  ear  ! 
Be  death  your  theme  in  ev'ry  place  and  hour  ;  730 

Nor  longer  want,  ye  monumental  sires, 

705.  Jehu-like:  Rapidly.     An  allusion  to  2  Kings  9  :  20,  ''and   the  driv- 
ing is  like  the  driving  of  Jehu,  the  son  of  Nimshi ;  for  he  driveth  furiously." 

713.    Quotidian:  Daily. 

716-25.  The  course  of  thought  in  this  passage  is  marked  by  great  inge- 
nuity and  power. 

731.   Ye  monumental  sires :  Ye  aged  sires  who,  as  if  already  dead,  serve  as 
monuments,  or  tomb-stones. 

t 


NIGHT   V.  235 

A  brother- tomb  to  tell  you,  you  shall  die. 

That  death  you  dread,  (so  great  is  nature's  skill !) 

Know  you  shall  court  before  you  shall  enjoy. 

NEEDFUL    AND    NEEDLESS    KNOWLEDGE. 

But  you  are  learn'd ;  in  volumes  deep  you  sit ;  735 

In  wisdom  shallow  :  Pompous  ignorance  ! 
"Would  you  be  still  more  learned  than  the  learn'd  ? 
Learn  well  to  know  how  much  need  not  be  known, 
And  what  that  knowledge  which  impairs  your  sense. 
Our  needful  knowledge,  hk«  our  needful  food,  740 

Unhedg'd,  lies  open  in  life's  common  field, 
And  bids  all  welcome  to  the  vital  feast. 
You  scorn  what  lies  before  you  in  the  page 
Of  nature  and  experience,  moral  truth  ; 

Of  indispensable,  eternal  fruit ;  745 

Fruit  on  which  mortals,  feeding,  turn  to  gods ; 
And  dive  in  science  for  distinguish'd  names, 
Dishonest  fomentation  of  your  pride, 
Sinking  in  virtue  as  you  rise  in  fame. 

Your  learning,  like  the  lunar  beam,  affords  750 

Light,  but  not  heat ;  it  leaves  you  uudevout, 
Frozen  at  heart,  while  speculation  shines. 
Awake,  ye  curious  indagators,  fond 
Of  knowing  all,  but  what  avails  you  known. 
If  you  would  learn  death's  character,  attend.  755 

All  casts  of  conduct,  all  degrees  of  health, 
All  dies  of  fortune,  and  all  dates  of  age, 

735-36.  Notice  the  admirable  contrast  here  introduced. 
738.  Need:  Needs. 

753.  Indagators :  Investigators. 

754.  Known :  Being  known. 

"756.  Casts:  Kinds. 

757-  Dies  of  fortune:  Grades  of  fortune,  represented  as  depending  on  ths 
throw  of  a  die,  or  as  lying  beyond  human  control. 

I 


230  THE    COMPLAINT. 

Together  shook  in  his  impartial  urn, 

Come  forth  at  random  ;  or,  if  choice  is  made, 

The  choice  is  quite  sarcastic,  and  insults  760 

All  hold  conjecture  and  fond  hopes  of  man. 

What  countless  multitudes  not  only  leave, 

But  deeply  disappoint  us,  by  their  deaths ! 

Though  great  our  sorrow,  greater  our  surprise. 

Like  other  tyrants  death  delights  to  smite,  765 

What,  smitten,  most  proclaims  the  pride  of  pow'r, 
And  arbitrary  nod.     His  joy  supreme, 
To  bid  the  wretch  survive  the  fortunate ; 
And  feeble  wrap  th'  athletic  in  his  shroud  ; 
And  weeping  fathers  build  their  children's  tomb :  770 

Me  thine.  Narcissa ! — What  though  short  thy  date  ? 
Virtue,  not  rolling  suns,  the  mind  matures. 
That  life  is  long  which  answers  life's  great  end. 
The  time  that  bears  no  fruit  deserves  no  name. 
The  man  of  wisdom  is  the  man  of  years.  775 

In  hoary  youth  Methusalems  may  die  ; 
O  how  misdated  on  their  flatt'ring  tombs  ! 

narcissa's  gaiety. 

Narcissa's  youth  has  lectured  me  thus  far : 
And  can  her  gaiety  give  counsel  too  ? 
That  like  the  Jews'  famed  oracle  of  gems,  780 

753.  Urn :  It  was  usual  for  the  Greeks  and  Latins  to  burn  the  dead  and 
preserve  their  ashes  in  a  vase  of  a  roundish  form  :  it  was  their  practice  also 
to  collect  the  votes  of  their  popular  assemblies,  usually  expressed  by  white 
or  black  pebbles,  in  an  urn.  Our  author  seems  to  make  an  allusion  to  both 
of  these  practices. 

776.  An  allusion  to  the  oldest  man  that  ever  lived:  Gen.  5  :  27,  "and  all 
the  days  of  Methusaleh  were  nine  hundred  sixty  and  nine  years,  and  he 
died."  The  contrasted  ideas  in  this  line  are  exceedingly  striking ;  a  Me- 
thusaleh dying  in  hoary  youth :  a  man  of  great  age,  who,  judged  by  the 
standard  in  (775),  dies  in  his  youth,  having  accomplished  either  for  himself 
or  others  no  more  than  should  have  been  done  during  the  first  few  years  of 
life. 

780.  Jews1  famed  oracle  of  gems :  Reference  seems  here  to  be  made  to  a  part 

I 


NIGHT    V.  237 

Sparkles  instruction ;  such  as  throws  new  light, 

And  opens  more  the  character  of  death, 

111  known  to  thee,  Lorenzo  !     This  thy  vaunt : 

'  Give  death  his  due,  the  wretched  and  the  old  ; 

E'en  let  him  sweep  his  rubbish  to  the  grave ;  785 

Let  him  not  violate  kind  nature's  laws, 

But  own  man  born  to  live  as  well  as  die.' 

Wretched  and  old  thou  giv'st  him  :  young  and  gay 

He  takes  ;  and  plunder  is  a  tyrant's  joy. 

What  if  I  prove,  'The  farthest  from  the  fear  790 

Are  often  nearest  to  the  stroke  of  fate  V 

All,  more  than  common,  menaces  an  end. 
A  blaze  betokens  brevity  of  life  : 
As  if  bright  embers  should  emit  a  flame, 
Glad  spirits  sparkled  from  Narcissa's  eye,  795 

And  made  youth  younger,  and  taught  life  to  live. 
As  nature's  opposites  wage  endless  war, 
For  this  offence,  as  treason  to  the  deep 
Inviolable  stupor  of  his  reign, 

Where  lust,  and  turbulent  ambition,  sleep,  800 

Death  took  swift  vengeance.     As  he  life  detests, 
More  life  is  still  more  odious  ;  and  reduced 
By  conquest,  aggrandizes  more  his  pow'r. 
But  wherefore  aggrandized  ?     By  Heaven's  decree, 
To  plant  the  soul  on  her  eternal  guard,  805 

Jewish  High  Priest's  dress — the  breast  plate,  in  which  were  inserted  four 
rows  of  precious  stones,  upon  each  of  which  was  engraven  the  name  of  one 
of  the  sons  of  Jacob.  These  stones  received  the  names  of  Urim  and  Thvm- 
mim,  (Light  and  Truth)  because  by  them,  as  instruments,  God  gave  revela- 
tions, and  declared  certain  truths.  The  precise  mode  in  which  this  was 
done  is  not  now  well  understood-  The  opinions  on  the  subject  may  be  seen 
in  Kitto's  Cyclopaedia. 

784.  His  due :  What  properly  belongs  to  him,  namely,  the  wretched  and 
the  old. 

791.  Fate:  Used  for  death. 

796.  Taught  life  to  live  :  Taught  life  to  be  vigorous  ;  or  authorized  life  to 
continue  without  abatement  of  vigour. 


238  The  complaint. 

In  awful  expectation  of  our  end. 

Thus  runs  death's  dread  commission  ;   '  Strike,  but  so, 

As  most  alarms  the  living  by  the  dead.' 

Hence  stratagem  delights  him,  and  surprise, 

And  cruel  sport  with  man's  securities.  810 

Not  simple  conquest,  triumph  is  his  aim  ; 

And,  where  least  feared,  there  conquest  triumphs  most. 

This  proves  my  bold  assertion  not  too  bold. 

THE    FORMS    THAT   DEATH    ASSUMES. 

What  are  his  arts  to  lay  our  fears  asleep  ? 
Tiberian  arts  his  purposes  wrap  up  815 

In  deep  dissimulation's  darkest  night. 
Like  princes  unconfess'd  in  foreign  courts, 
Who  travel  under  cover,  death  assumes 
The  name  and  look  of  life,  and  dwells  among  us  ; 
He  takes  all  shapes  that  serve  his  black  designs  :  820 

Though  master  of  a  wider  empire  far 
Than  that  o'er  which  the  Roman  eagle  flew. 

815.  Tiberian  arts:  Arts  such  as  Tiberius  (the  successor  of  Augustus) 
used,  one  of  the  most  odious,  cunning,  and  cruel  of  dissemblers  ;  possessed 
of  a  dark,  distrustful,  suspicious,  reserved,  and  most  artful  mind  ;  hesitating 
at  no  deception  or  cruelty  that  placed  within  his  power  the  objects  of  his 
aversion,  dread,  or  jealousy :  and  universally  execrated  for  his  bestial  sensu- 
alities during  the  latter  years  of  his  infamous  reign.  He  is  said  to  have  had 
a  confused,  ambiguous,  and  hesitating  method  of  expressing,  or  rather  of 
hinting  his  sentiments,  and  these  he  often  designed  to  be  understood  in  a 
contrary  sense  from  that  which  they  naturally  bore. 

"  Such,"  says  Tacitus,  "  was  the  genius  of  Tiberius :  by  nature  subtile> 
dark,  designing,  and  always  mysterious,  he  had  exercised  his  talents  in  the 
school  of  politics,  and  became,  by  constant  practice,  the  great  master  of  craft 
and  dissimulation.  What  he  could  do  by  an  act  of  power,  he  chose  rather  to 
accomplish  by  the  crooked  means  of  deceit  and  stratagem.  And  even  when 
he  was  drawing  near  his  end,  and  everything  was  failing,  his  dissimulation 
remained.  Dissembling  to  the  last,  he  hoped  by  false  appearances  to  hide 
the  decay  of  nature. '; 

892.  Eagle :  Standard,  upon  which  the  form  of  the  eagle  was  depicted. 


NIGHT    V.  23» 

Like  Nero,  he's  a  tiddler,  charioteer; 

Or  drives  his  phaeton  in  female  guise  ; 

Quite  unsuspected,  till,  the  wheel  beneath,  825 

His  disarray'd  oblation  he  devours. 

He  most  affects  the  forms  least  like  himself, 
His  slender  self:  hence  burly  corpulence 
Is  his  familiar  wear,  and  sleek  disgfuse. 

Behind  the  rosy  bloom  he  loves  to  lurk,  830 

Or  ambush  in  a  smile  ;  or,  wanton,  dive 
In  dimples  deep  :  Love's  eddies,  which  draw  in 
Unwary  hearts,  and  sink  them  in  despair. 
Such  on  Narcissa's  couch  he  loiter'd  long 
Unknown,  and  when  detected,  still  was  seen  835 

To  smile  ;  such  peace  has  innocence  in  death  ! 

Most  happy  they  !  whom  least  his  arts  deceive. 
One  eye  on  death,  and  one  full  fix'd  on  heav'n, 
Becomes  a  mortal  aud  immortal  man. 

Long  on  his  wiles  a  piqued  and  jealous  spy,  840 

I've  seen,  or  dream'd  I  saw,  the  tyrant  dress, 
Lay  by  his  horrors,  and  put  on  his  smiles. 
Say,  muse,  for  thou  remember'st,  call  it  back, 
And  show  Lorenzo  the  surprising  scene  ; 
If  'twas  a  dream,  his  genius  can  explain.  845 

823-4.  Like  Nero,  &c.  :  Another  infamous  Roman  emperor.  "To  the  con- 
tempt of  his  subjects/'  says  Ferguson,  "  he  at  last  joined  a  contempt  of  that 
very  dignity  to  which  he  himself  was  raised  as  sovereign  of  so  great  an  em- 
pire. Having  a  talent  for  music,  he  became,  or  believed  himself  to  be,  a 
distinguished  performer,  exhibited  his  skill  in  the  public  theatres,  and  tra- 
velled through  Greece  in  the  character  of  an  artist,  to  receive  the  applauses 
of  a  people  supposed  to  excel  in  discernment  and  taste.  Next  to  the  fears 
which  assailed  him  on  the  prospect  of  death,  he  was  most  affected,  it  is  said, 
with  surprise,  that  the  world  could  submit  to  lose  the  hand  of  so  great  a  per- 
former." Chariot-driving  was  one  of  his  favorite  amusements.  He  also 
performed  on  the  stage  as  a  tragedian,  comedian,  and  buffoon.  Our  author 
intimates  that  he  drove  his  phaeton,  or  open  carriage,  in  female  guise,  or  appa- 
rel. The  term  phaeton,  in  this  application,  is  drawn  from  the  classical  fable 
of  Phaeton,  the  son  of  Phoebus,  driving  one  day  the  chariot  of  the  sun,  an 
attempt  in  which  he  met  with  wretched  success. 


240  THE    COMPLAINT. 

'Twas  in  a  circle  of  the  gay  I  stood  ; 
Death,  would  have  enter'd ;  Nature  push'd  him  back ; 
Supported  by  a  doctor  of  renown, 
His  point  he  gain'd ;  then  artfully  dismiss'd 
The  sage  ;  for  Death  design'd  to  be  conceal'd.  8.rift 

He  gave  an  old  vivacious  usurer 
His  meagre  aspect,  aM  his  naked  bones  ; 
In  gratitude  for  plumping  up  his  prey, 
A  pamper'd  spendthrift ;  whose  fantastic  ah*, 
Well-fashion'd  figure,  and  cockaded  brow,  655 

He  took  in  change,  and  underneath  the  pride 
Of  costly  linen  tuck'd  his  filthy  shroud. 
His  crooked  bow  he  straighten'd  to  a  cane, 
And  hid  his  deadly  shafts  in  Myra's  eye. 

THE    PECULIAR    HAUNTS    OF    DEATH. 

The  dreadful  masquerader,  thus  equipp'd,  860 

Out  sallies  on  adventures.     Ask  you  where  ? 
Where  is  he  not  ?     For  his  peculiar  haunts 
Let  this  suffice  ;  sure  as  night  follows  day, 
Death  treads  in  Pleasure's  footsteps  round  the  world, 
When  Pleasure  treads  the  paths  which  Reason  shuns.         865 
When  against  Reason,  Riot  shuts  the  door, 
And  Gaiety  supplies  the  place  of  Sense, 
Then  foremost,  at  the  banquet  and  the  ball, 
Death  leads  the  dance,  or  stamps  the  deadly  die ; 
Nor  ever  fails  the  midnight  bowl  to  crown.  870 

Gaily  carousing  to  his  gay  compeers, 
Inly  he  laughs  to  see  them  laugh  at  him, 
As  absent  far  ;  and  when  the  revel  burns, 
When  Fear  is  banish'd,  and  triumphant  Thought, 
Calling  for  all  the  joys  beneath  the  moon,  875 

Against  him  turns  the  key,  and  bids  him  sup 

859.  Myra's  eye :  This  fictitious  name  is  invented  merely  to  designate  one 
of  the  gay  party  before  alluded  to. 
876.  J  gainst  him  :  That  is,  Death. 


NIGHT    V.  241 

With  their  progenitors — he  drops  his  mask  ; 
Frowns  out  at  full ;  the}-  start,  despair,  expire. 
Scarce  with  more  sudden  terror  and  surprise 
From  his  black  mask  of  nitre,  touch'd  by  fire,  880 

He  bursts,  expands,  roars,  blazes,  and  devours. 
And  is  not  this  triumphant  treachery, 
And  more  than  simple  conquest  in  the  fiend  ? 
♦ 

death's  uncertainty  as  to  time. 

And  now,  Lorenzo,  dost  thou  wrap  thy  soul 
In  soft  security,  because  unknown  885 

Which  moment  is  commission'd  to  destroy  ? 
In  death's  uncertainty  thy  danger  lies. 
Is  death  uncertain  ?  therefore  thou  be  fix'd, 
Fix'd  as  a  sentinel,  all  eye,  all  ear, 

All  expectation  of  the  coming  foe.  890 

Rouse,  stand  in  arms,  nor  lean  against  thy  spear, 
Lest  slumber  steal  one  moment  o'er  thy  soul, 
And  Fate  surprise  thee  nodding.     Watch,  be  strong : 
Thus  give -each  day  the  merit  and  renown 
Of  dying  well,  though  doom'd  but  once  to  die.  -  895 

Nor  let  life's  period,  hidden  (as  from  most) 
Hide,  too,  from  thee  the  precious  use  of  life. 

fortune,  a  bright  mark  for  death. 

Early,  not  sudden,  was  Xarcissa's  fate : 
Soon,  not  surprising,  Death  his  visit  paid : 
Her  thought  went  forth  to  meet  him  on  his  way,  900 

Nor  Gaiety  forgot  it  was  to  die. 
Though  Fortune,  too,  (our  third  and  final  theme) 
As  an  accomplice,  play'd  her  gaudy  plumes, 
And  ev'ry  glitt'ring  gewgaw,  on  her  sight, 
To  dazzle  and  debauch  it  from  its  mark.  905 

877    Their  progenitors :  Their  ancestors,  as  being  more  advanced  in  life 
and  more  fit  subjects  for  death,  in  their  estimation. 
11 


-42  the  compj.aist. 

Death's  dreadful  advent  is  the  mark  of  man, 

A.nd  every  thought  that  misses  it  is  blind. 

Fortune  with  Youth  and  Gaiety  conspired 

To  weave  a  triple  wreath  of  happiness 

(If  happiness  on  earth)  to  crown  her  brow.  910 

And  could  Death  charge  thro'  such  a  shining  shield  ? 

That  shining  shield  invites  the  tyrant's  spear, 

As  if  to  damp  our  elevated  aims, 

And  strongly  preach  humanity  to  man. 

0  how  portentous  is  prosperity  !  915 

How,  comet-like,  it  threatens  while  it  shines  ! 

Few  years  but  yield  us  proofs  of  Death's  ambition, 

To  cull  his  victims  from  the  fairest  fold, 

And  sheathe  his  shafts  in  all  the  pride  of  life. 

When  flooded  with  abundance,  purpled  o'er  920 

With  recent  honours,  bloom'd  with  ev'ry  bliss, 

Set  up  in  ostentation,  made  the  gaze, 

The  gaudy  centre,  of  the  public  eye  ; 

When  Fortune  thus  has  toss'd  her  child  in  air, 

Snatch'd  from  the  covert  of  an  humble  state,  925 

How  often  have  I  seen  him  dropt  at  once, 

Our  morning's  envy,  and  our  evening's  sigh ! 

As  if  her  bounties  were  the  signal  given, 

The  flow'ry  wreath,  to  mark  the  sacrifice, 

And  call  death's  arrows  on  the  destined  prey.  930 

HAPPINESS,    IN    CONTENTMENT  ;    NOT    IN    FORTUNE. 

High  fortune  seems  in  cruel  league  with  fate. 
Ask  you  for  what  ?     To  give  his  war  on  man 

906.  The  mark  of  man:  That  which  man  should  maik  or  observe. 

916.  Comet-like,  it  threatens :  These  shining  and  erratic  bodies  were  long 
considered  as  preternatural  indications  of  approaching  calamities:  but 
ocience  has  dissipated  this  illusion.  The  author,  however,  speaks  in  con- 
formity with  the  then  quite  uniform  popular  opinion. 

927.  Our  morning's  envy,  &c.  :  A  beautiful  and  concise  way  of  expressing 
this  idea:  *he  object  of  our  morning's  envy,  &c. 


NIGHT    V.  243 

The  deeper  dread,  and  more  illustrious  spoil ; 

Thus  to  keep  daring  mortals  more  iu  awe. 

And  bums  Lorenzo  still  for  the  sublime  935 

Of  life  ?  to  hang  his  airy  nest  on  high, 

On  the  slight  timber  of  the  topmost  bough, 

Roek'd  at  each  breeze,  and  menacing  a  fall ' 

Granting  grim  Death  at  equal  distance  there; 

Yet  peace  begins  just  where  ambition  ends.  940 

What  makes  man  wretched  ?  happiness  denied  ? 

Lorenzo  !  no,  'tis  happiness  disdain'd. 

She  comes  too  meanly  dress'd  to  win  our  smile, 

And  calls  herself  Content,  a  homely  name ; 

Our  flame  is  transport,  and  content  our  scorn.  945 

Ambition  turns,  and  shuts  the  door  against  her, 

And  weds  a  toil,  a  tempest,  in  her  stead  ; 

A  tempest  to  warm  transport  near  of  kin. 

Unknowing  what  our  mortal  state  admits, 

Life's  modest  joys  we  ruin  while  we  raise,  950 

And  all  our  ecstacies  are  wounds  to  peace ; 

Peace,  the  full  portion  of  mankind  below. 

And  since  thy  peace  is  dear,  ambitious  youth  ! 
Of  fortune  fond  !  as  thoughtless  of  thy  fate  ! 
As  late  I  drew  Death's  picture,  to  stir  up  955 

Thy  wholesome  fears,  now,  drawn  in  contrast,  see 
Gay  Fortune's,  thy  vain  hopes  to  reprimand. 
See,  high  in  air  the  sportive  goddess  hangs, 
Unlocks  her  casket,  spreads  her  glitt'ring  ware, 
And  calls  the  giddy  winds  to  puff  abroad  900 

Her  random  bounties  o'er  the  gaping  throng. 
All  rush  rapacious ;  friends  o'er  trodden  friends, 
Sons  o'er  their  fathers,  subjects  o'er  their  kings, 
Priests  o'er  their  gods,  and  lovers  o'er  the  fair, 
(Still  more  adored)  to  snatch  the  golden  show'r.  965 

935-36.  The  sublime  of  life  :  the  high  station  of  life. 

945.  Our  flame  is  transport:  We  are  not  satisfied  with  moderate  ardour  in 
our  feelings  :  we  crave  high  excitement,  and  hence  we  scorn  simple  content- 
ment as  a  source  of  happiness. 


244  THE    COMPLAINT. 


THE    BASE    IDOLATRY    OF    FOKTUXE. 

Gold  glitters  most  where  virtue  shines  no  more ; 
As  stars  from  absent  suns  have  leave  to  shine. 
0  what  a  precious  pack  of  votaries, 
Unkennell'd  from  the  prisons  and  the  stews, 
Pom-  in,  all  opening  in  their  idol's  praise !  ^70 

All,  ardent,  eve  each  wafture  of  her  hand, 
And,  wide-expanding  their  voracious  jaws, 
Morsel  on  morsel  swallow  down  uiichew'd, 
Untasted,  through  mad  appetite  for  more  ; 
Gorged  to  the  throat,  yet  lean  and  rav'nou9  still  :  975 

Sagacious  all  to  trace  the  smallest  game, 
And  bold  to  seize  the  greatest.     If  (blest  chance  !) 
Court-zephyrs  sweetly  breathe,  they  launch,  they  fly 
O'er  just,  o'er  sacred,  all-forbidden  ground, 
Drunk  with  the  burning  scent  of  place  or  pow'r,  980 

Staunch  to  the  foot  of  lucre  till  they  die. 

Or  if  for  men  you  take  them,  as  I  mark 
Their  manners,  thou  their  various  fates  survey. 
With  aim  mismeasured,  and  impetuous  speed, 
Some,  darting,  strike  their  ardent  wish  far  off,  986 

Through  fury  to  possess  it :  some  succeed, 
But  stumble  and  let  fall  the  taken  prize. 
From  some,  by  sudden  blasts,  'tis  whirl'd  away, 
And  lodged  in  bosoms  that  ne'er  dream' d  of  gain. 
To  some  it  sticks  so  close,  that,  when  torn  off,  99o 

Torn  is  the  man,  ami  mortal  is  the  wound. 
Some,  o'er-enamour'd  of  their  bags,  run  mad, 
Groan  under  gold,  yet  weep  for  want  of  bread. 

969.   UnkcnncWd:  Let  loose  like  a  pack  of  dogs. 
978.  Court-zephyrs:  The  pleasant  breezes  of  court  favour. 
982.  For  men  :  For  men,  not  dogs. 

992.   0' er-enamour  d :  Too  devoted  to  bags  of  gold  ;  so  much  so  as  to  re- 
fuse to  employ  it  in  the  purchase  of  needful  food. 


N'IGH'J     V.  '24.-') 

Together  some  (unhappy  rivals !)  seize, 

And  rend  abundance  into  poverty;  905 

Loud  croaks  the  raven  of  the  law,  and  smiles  ; 

Smiles  too  the  goddess  ;  but  smiles  most  at  those 

(Just  victims  of  exorbitant  desire  !) 

Who  perish  at  their  own  request,  and  wkelm'd 

Beneath  her  load  of  lavish  grants,  expire.  1000 

Fortune  is  famous  for  her  numbers  slain : 

The  number  small  which  happiness  can  bear. 

Though  various  for  a  -while  their  fates,  at  last 

One  curse  involves  them  all ;  at  death's  approach 

All  read  their  riches  backward  into  loss,  1005 

And  mourn  in  just  proportion  to  their  store. 

And  death's  approach  (if  orthodox  my  song) 
Is  hasten'd  by  the  lure  of  fortune's  smiles. 
And  art  thou  still  a  glutton  of  bright  gold  ? 
And  art  thou  still  rapacious  of  thy  ruin?  1010 

Death  loves  a  shining  mark,  a  signal  blow ; 
A  blow  which,  while  it  executes,  alarms, 
And  startle  thousands  with  a.  single  fall. 
As  when  some  stately  growth  of  oak,  or  pine, 
"Which  nods  aloft,  and  proudly  spreads  her  shade,  1015 

The  sun's  defiance,  and  the  flock's  defence, 
By  the  strong  strokes  of  lab'ring  hinds  subdued, 
Loud  groans  her  last,  and,  rushing  from  her  height, 
In  cumbrous  ruin  thunders  to  the  ground ; 
The  conscious  forest  trembles  at  the  shock,  1020 

094.  The  meaning  is  : — some  persons  together  seize  a  large  property  ir<  <» 
litigious  way,  contend  for  it  in  the  court  room,  and  rend  it  into  fragments, 
reduce  it  lo  insignificance. 

996.  Raven :  This  bird  among  the  ancients  was  regarded  as  one  of  ill- 
otrien. 

997.  The  goddess :  Fortune  is  here  intended. 

1002.  Happiness  can  bear :  Can  bear,  or  endure  without  injury  the  intox- 
icating influence  of  excessive  prosperity. 

1014-21.  A  splendid  comparison  is  here  introduced. 
10  17.  Hinds  :  Rustics 


<24tf  THE    COMPLAINT. 

And  hill,  and  stream,  and  distant  dale  resound. 

These  high-aim'd  darts  of  death,  and  these  alone, 
Should  I  collect,  my  quiver  would  be  full ; 
A  quiver  which,  suspended  in  mid  air, 

Or  near  heav'n's  archer,  in  the  zodiac,  hung,  1025 

(So  could  it  be)  should  draw  the  public  eye, 
The  gaze  and  contemplation  of  mankind! 
A  constellation  awful,  yet  benign, 
To  guide  the  gay  through  life's  tempestuous  wave, 
Nor  suffer  them  to  strike  the  common  rock  ;  1030 

'  From  greater  danger  to  grow  more  secure, 
And,  wrapt  in  happiness,  forget  their  fate.' 

LYSANDER   AND    ASPASIA.        THE    DISAPPOINTED    NUPTIALS. 

Lysander,  happy  past  the  common  lot, 
Was  warn'd  of  danger,  but  too  gay  to  fear. 
He  wooed  the  fair  Aspasia  ;  she  was  kind  :  1035 

In  youth,  form,  fortune,  fame,  they  both  were  bless'd. 
All  who  knew  envied,  yet  in  envy  loved. 
Can  fancy  form  more  finish'd  happiness  ? 
Fix'd  was  the  nuptial  hour.     Her  stately  dome 
Rose  on  the  sounding  beach.     The  glitt'ring  spires  1040 

Float  in  the  wave,  and  break  against  the  shore : 
So  break  those  glitt'ring  shadows,  human  joys. 
The  faithless  morning  smiled  :  he  takes  his  leave, 
To  re-embrace,  in  ecstaeies,  at  eve. 

The  rising  storm  forbids.     The  news  arrives  ;  1045 

Untold  she  saw  it  in  her  servant's  eye. 
She  felt  it  seen  (her  heart  was  apt  to  feel ;) 
And,  drown'd,  without  the  furious  ocean's  aid, 
In  suffocating  sorrows,  shares  his  tomb. 

Now  round  the  sumptuous  bridal  monument  1050 

The  guilty  billows  innocently  roar, 

1025.  Jrrhcr :  The  constellation  Sagittarius. 

1040    Glitt'ring  tjiircx  :   Thai  is,  the  shadows  of  them. 


NIGHT    V.  247 

And  the  rough  sailor,  passing,  drops  a  tear. 

A  tear  !  can  tears  suffice  ? — but  not  for  me. 

How  vain  our  efforts  !  and  our  arts  how  vain  ! 

The  distant  train  of  thought  I  took,  to  shun,  1055 

Has  thrown  me  on  my  fate. — These  died  together ; 

Happy  in  ruin  !  undivorced  by  death  ! 

Or  ne'er  to  meet,  or  ne'er  to  part,  is  peace. — 

Narcissa,  Pity  bleeds  at  thought  of  thee ; 

Yet  thou  wast  only  near  me,  not  myself.  1060 

Survive  myself? — that  cures  all  other  wo. 

Narcissa  lives  ;  Philander  is  forgot. 

0  the  soft  commerce !     O  the  tender  ties, 

Close  twisted  with  the  fibres  of  the  heart ! 

Which  broken,  break  them,  and  drain  off  the  soul  1065 

Of  human  joy,  and  make  it  pain  to  five. — 

And  is  it  then  to  live  ?  when  such  friends  part, 

'Tis  the  survivor  dies. — My  heart !  no  more. 

1058.   Or  ne'er  to  meet :  Either  ne'er.  &c. 

1063.  Commerce:  Interchange  of  affectionate  regards. 

106S.  The  survivor  dies :  In  the  loss  of  a  very  dear  friend,  he  suffers  more 
pain  than  the  deceased  friend  did  in  dying.  No  more :  Utter  no  more,  or,  I 
can  say  no  more :  the  subject  is  too  painful. 


PREFACE. 

TO 

THE    INFIDEL    RECLAIMED. 


Few  ages  have  been  deeper  in  dispute  about  religion  than  this.  The  dis- 
pute about  religion,  and  the  practice  of  it,  seldom  go  together.  The  shorter 
therefore,  the  dispute,  the  better.  I  think  it  may  be  reduced  to  this  single 
question.  7s  man  immortal,  oris  he  not?  If  he  is  not,  all  our  disputes  are 
mere  amusements,  or  trials  of  skill.  In  this  case,  truth,  reason,  religion, 
which  give  our  discourses  such  pomp  and  solemnity,  are  (as  will  be  shown) 
mere  empty  sounds,  without  any  meaning  in  them.  But  if  man  is  immor- 
tal, it  will  behoove  him  to  be  very  serious  about  eternal  consequences ;  or, 
in  other  words,  to  be  truly  religious.  And  this  great  fundamental  truth,  un- 
established,  or  unawakened  in  the  minds  of  men,  is,  I  conceive,  the  real 
source  and  support  of  all  our  infidelity;  how  remote  soever  the  particular 
objections  advanced  may  seem  to  be  from  it. 

Sensible  appearances  affect  most  men  much  more  than  abstract  reasonings : 
and  we  daily  see  bodies  drop  around  us,  but  the  soul  is  invisible.  The  power 
which  inclination  has  over  the  judgment,  is  greater  than  can  well  be  con- 
ceived by  those  who  have  not  had  an  experience  of  it ;  and  of  what  num. 
bers  is  it  the  sad  interest,  that  souls  should  not  survive  !  The  heathen 
world  confessed,  that  they  rather  hoped  than  firmly  believed  immortality ! 
and  how  many  heathens  have  we  still  amongst  us  !  The  sacred  page  as- 
sures us,  thai  life  and  immortality  are  brought  to  light  by  the  gospel  ;  but 
11* 


250  PREFACE. 

by  how  many  is  the  gospel  rejected  or  overlooked !  From  these  considera- 
tions, and  from  my  being  accidentally  privy  to  the  sentiments  of  some  par- 
ticular persons,  I  have  been  long  persuaded  that  most,  if  not  all,  our  infidels 
(whatever  name  they  take,  and  whatever  scheme,  for  argument's  sake,  and 
to  keep  themselves  in  countenance,  they  patronise)  are  supported  in  their 
deplorable  error  by  some  doubt  of  their  immortality,  at  the  bottom.  And  I 
am  satisfied  that  men  once  thoroughly  convinced  of  their  immortality,  are 
not  far  from  being  Christians.  For  it  is  hard  to  conceive,  that  a  man  fully 
conscious  eternal  pain  or  happiness  will  certainly  be  his  lot,  should  not  ear- 
nestly, and  impartially,  inquire  after  the  surest  means  of  escaping  the  one 
and  securing  the  other.  And  of  such  an  earnest  and  impartial  inquiry,  I 
well  know  the  consequence. 

Here,  therefore,  in  proof  of  this  most  fundamental  truth,  some  plain 
arguments  are  offered;  arguments  derived  from  principles  which  infidels 
admit  in  common  with  believers ;  arguments  which  appear  to  me  altogether 
irresistible :  and  such  as,  I  am  satisfied,  will  have  great  weight  with  all  who 
give  themselves  the  small  trouble  of  looking  seriously  into  their  own  bosoms 
and  of  observing,  with  any  tolerable  degree  of  attention,  what  daily  passes 
round  about  them  in  the  world.  If  some  arguments  shall  here  occur  which 
others  have  declined,  they  are  submitted,  with  all  deference  to  better  judg- 
ments in  this,  of  all  points  the  most  important.  For,  as  to  the  being  of  a 
GOD,  that  is  no  longer  disputed;  but  it  is  undisputed  for  this  reason  only» 
viz.  because,  where  the  least  pretence  to  reason  is  admitted,  it  must  forever 
be  indisputable.  And,  of  consequence,  no  man  can  be  betrayed  into  a  dis- 
pute of  that  nature  by  vanity,  which  has  a  principal  share  in  animating  our 
modern  combatants  against  other  articles  of  our  belief. 


' 


©  ® 


NIGHT   VI. 


THE  INFIDEL  RECLAIMED. 
IN  TWO  PARTS. 

CONTAINING   THE   NATURE,    PROOF,    AND    IMPORTANCE   OF     IMMORTALITY. 


PART   I. 

WHSUE,   AMONG   OTHER  THINGS,   GLORY   AND   RICHES   ARE   PABTICITLARLT   CONSLDEEED. 


Snsrrilirii  tn  ilji  Ht.  Imi  Irartj  ^rljjam. 


She  (for  I  know  not  yet  her  name  in  heav'n) 
Not  early,  like  Narcissa,  left  the  scene, 
Nor  sudden,  like  Philander.     AVhat  avail  ? 
Tins  seeming  mitigation  but  inflames  : 

This  fancied  med'cine  heightens  the  disease.  o 

The  longer  known,  the  closer  still  she  grew ; 
And  gradual  parting  is  a  gradual  death. 
'Tis  the  grim  tyrant's  engine  which  extorts, 
By  tardy  pressure's  still-increasing  weight, 

1.  She:  Rather  an  abrupt  commencement,  as  there  is  no  intimation  who 
is  here  intended.  It  is  some  one  who  was  introduced  in  the  previous 
Night. 


252  THE    COMPLAINT. 

From  hardest  hearts  confession  of  distress.  iu 

O  the  long  dark  approach,  through  years  of  pain, 
Death's  gall'ry  !  (might  I  dare  to  call  it  so) 
"With  dismal  doubt  and  sable  terror  hung, 
Sick  Hope's  pale  lamp  its  only  glimm'ring  ray : 
There,  Fate  my  melancholy  walk  ordain'd,  15 

Forbid  Self-love  itself  to  flatter,  there. 
How  oft  I  gazed  prophetically  sad ! 
How  oft  I  saw  her  dead,  while  yet  in  smiles  ! 
In  smiles  she  sunk  her  grief  to  lessen  mine : 
She  spoke  me  comfort,  and  increased  my  pair.  20 

Like  powerful  armies,  trenching  at  a  town, 
By  slow  and  silent,  but  resistless  sap, 
In  his  pale  progress  gently  gaining  ground, 
Death  urged  his  deadly  siege  ;  in  spite  of  art, 
Of  all  the  balmy  blessings  Nature  lends  25 

To  succour  frail  humanity.     Ye  Stars  ! 
(Not  now  first  made  familiar  to  my  sight) 
And  thou,  0  Moon  !  bear  witness  ;  many  a  night 
He  tore  the  pillow  from  beneath  my  head, 
Tied  down  my  sore  attention  to  the  shock  30 

By  ceaseless  depredations  on  a  life 
Dearer  than  that  he  left  me.     Dreadful  post 
Of  observation  !  darker  ev'ry  hour  ! 
Less  dread  the  clay  that  drove  me  to  the  brink, 
And  pointed  at  eternity  below,  35 

When  my  soul  shudder'd  at  futurity ; 
When,  on  a  moment's  point  th'  important  die 
Of  life  and  death  spun  doubtful,  ere  it  fell, 

15.  Fate:  The  divine  purpose. 

17.  Prophetically  sad :  Sad  from  foreseeing  her  certain  and  approaching 
death. 

21.  The  figure  here  introduced  is  highly   appropriate  and  well-carried 
through. 

22.  Sap :  A  trench  constructed  for  the  purpose  of  undermining  a  wall  so 
as  to  effect  an  entrance. 

34.  Less  dread :  Less  dreadful. 


NIGHT    VI.  253 

And  turn  d  up  life,  ray  title  to  more  wo. 

But  why  more  wo  ?     More  comfort  let  it  be.  40 

Nothing  is  dead  but  that  which  wish'd  to  die ; 
Nothing  is  dead  but  wretchedness  and  pain  ; 
Nothing  is  dead  but  what  encumber'd,  gall'd, 
Block'd  up  the  pass,  and  barr'd  from  real  life. 
Where  dwells  that  wish  most  ardent  of  the  wise  ?  45 

Too  dark  the  sun  to  see  it ;  highest  stars 
Too  low  to  reach  it ;  Death,  great  Death  alone, 
O'er  stars  and  sun  triumphant,  lands  us  there. 

Nor  dreadful  our  transition,  though  the  mind, 
An  artist  at  creating  self-alarms,  50 

Rich  in  expedients  for  inquietude, 
Is  prone  to  paint  it  dreadful.     Who  can  take 
Death's  portrait  true  ?  the  tyrant  never  sat. 
Our  sketch  all  random  strokes,  conjecture  all; 
Close  shuts  the  grave,  nor  tells  one  single  tale.  55 

Death  and  his  image  rising  in  the  brain, 
Bear  faint  resemblance  ;  never  are  alike  ; 
Fear  shakes  the  pencil ;  Fancy  loves  excess ; 
Dark  Ignorance  is  lavish  of  her  shades ; 
And  these  the  formidable  picture  draw.  60 

But  grant  the  worst ;  'tis  past ;  new  prospects  rise, 
And  drop  a  veil  eternal  o'er  her  tomb. 
Far  other  views  our  contemplation  claim, 
Views  that  o'erpay  the  rigours  of  our  life ; 

45.  That  wish :  The  object  of  that  wish. 

46.  Too  dark  the  sun,  &c.  :  The  sun  is  here  personified,  and  from  its  in- 
strumentality in  enabling  percipient  beings  to  discover  objects,  is  figuratively 
represented  as  itself  having  the  power  of  perception,  but  still  it  has  not  the 
luminousness  sufficiently  abundant  or  penetrating  to  enable  it  to  discover  the 
object  referred  to,  the  future  abode  of  the  good :  nor  are  the  highest  stars 
high  enough  to  be  on  a  level  with  it,  but  death  shall  carry  us  on  the  ethe- 
real ocean  beyond  sun  and  stars,  and  land  us  there. 

56.  The  image  which  the  mind  pictures  of  death,  is  but  a  faint  representa- 
tion of  it,  owing  to  the  unfavourable  influence  of  fear,  fancy,  and  ignor- 
ance (58,  59). 


25-1-  THE    COMPLAINT. 

Views  that  suspend  our  agonies  in  death.  65 

Wrapt  in  the  thought  of  immortality, 

Wrapt  in  the  single,  the  triumphant  thought ! 

Long  life  might  lapse,  age  unperceived  come  on, 

And  find  the  soul  unsated  with  her  theme. 

Its  nature,  proof,  importance,  fire  my  song.  70 

O  that  my  song  could  emulate  my  soul ! 

Like  her,  immortal.     No  ! — the  soul  disdains 

A  mark  so  mean  ;  far  nobler  hope  inflames ; 

If  endless  ages  can  outweigh  an  hour, 

Let  not  the  laurel,  but  the  palm,  inspire.  75 

THE    NATURE    OF    IMMORTALITY. 

Thy  nature,  Immortality  !  who  knows  ? 
And  yet  who  knows  it  not  ?  It  is  but  life 
In  stronger  thread  of  brighter  colour  spun, 

75.  Let  not  the  laurel,  but  the  palm,  inspire :  It  seems  difficult  to  assign  a 
reason  for  this  distinction,  the  branches  or  leaves  of  both  these  trees  having 
been  alike  appropriated  as  emblems  of  honour  and  of  superiority.  The 
author  probably  regards  the  former  as  an  emblem  and  reward  only  of  an 
earthly  and  temporary  sort — the  badge  of  an  earthly  immortality  awarded 
to  his  song:  but  the  palm  he  employs  as  an  emblem  of  the  Christian's 
triumph  over  all  the  evils  of  the  present  life  and  of  his  imperishable  honour 
and  glory  in  heaven:  alluding  probably  to  a  passage  in  the  seventh  chapter 
of  the  Revelation — "After  this  I  beheld,  and  lo,  a  great  multitude  which  no 
man  could  number,  of  all  nations,  and  kindreds,  and  people,  arid  tongues, 
stood  before  the  throne,  and  before  the  Lamb,  clothed  with  white  robes,  and 
palms  in  their  hands."  Such  an  immortality  as  they  enjoyed :  such  a  palm 
branch  as  they  waved  in  joyful  triumph  before  heaven's  high  throne,  he 
prized  above  the  laurel  crown,  the  reward  of  genius  on  earth — such  a  re- 
ward as  tradition  reports  to  have  been  conferred  on  Virgil  and  Horace.  It 
was  the  custom  in  the  middle  ages,  at  some  of  the  European  universities,  to 
bestow  a  laurel  crown  upon  such  as  took  degrees  in  grammar  and  rhetoric,  of 
which  poetry  was  one  department.     See  Night  VII.  9S2. 

77-SO.  But  life,  &c.  :  The  comparison  is  ingenious  and  highly  illustrative. 
The  Stygian  dye  spoken  of  is  an  allusion  to  a  fable  connected  with  the  river 
Styx,  in  Arcadia,  in  Greece.  Ceres,  in  her  flight  from  Neptune,  having  been 
compelled  to  change  herself  into  a  mare,  came  to  this  stream,  and  beholding 
in  it  her  sadly  altered  form,  was  seized  with  hatred  of  the  stream,  and  made 
its  waters  black. 


NIGHT    VI.  255 

And  spun  for  ever  ;  dipt  by  cruel  Fate 

In  Stygian  dye,  how  black,  Iioav  brittle  here !  80 

llow  short  our  correspondence  with  the  sun  ! 

And  while  it  lasts  inglorious  !     Our  best  deeds, 

How  wanting  in  their  weight !     Our  highest  joys, 

Small  cordials  to  support  us  in  our  pain, 

And  give  us  strength  to  suffer.     But  how  great  85 

To  mingle  int'rests,  converse,  amities, 

With  all  the  sons  of  reason,  scatter'd  wide 

Through  habitable  space,  wherever  born, 

Howe'er  endow'd  !     To  live  free  citizens 

Of  universal  nature  !  to  lay  hold,  90 

By  more  than  feeble  faith,  on  the  Supreme ! 

To  call  heav'n's  rich  unfathomable  mines 

(Mines  which  support  archangels  in  their  state) 

Our  own  !  to  rise  in  science  as  in  bliss, 

Initiate  in  the  secrets  of  the  skies  !  95 

To  read  creation  ;  read  its  mighty  plan 

In  the  bare  bosom  of  the  Deity  ! 

The  plan  and  execution  to  collate  ! 

To  see,  before  each  glance  of  piercing  thought, 

All  cloud,  all  shadow,  blown  remote,  and  leave  100 

No  mystery — but  that  of  love  divine, 

Which  lifts  us  on  the  seraph's  flaming  wing, 

From  earth's  Aceldama,  this  field  of  blood, 

Of  inward  anguish,  and  of  outward  ill, 

From  darkness  and  from  dust,  to  such  a  scene  !  105 

Love's  element !  true  joy's  illustrious  home  ! 

83.   Wanting  in  their  weight :  An  allusion  to  what  was  said  of  the  king  of 
Babylon,  Thou  art  weighed  in  the  balances  and  art  found  wanting — Dan.  v.  27. 

85.  How  great :  How  dignified  and  noble. 

95.  Initiate:  Initiated,  instituted. 

97.  In  the,  Ac.  As  formed,  or  originated,  only  in  the  mind  of  Deity. 

103.  Aceldama :  The  field  purchased,  as  a  place  of  burial  for  strangers, 
with  the  money  for  which  Judas  had  betrayed  Christ,  and  which  remorse- 
fully he  had  flung  back  to  those  who  had  paid  it. — Matt.  27  :  8  ;  Acts  1 :  19. 

106.  Zove'g  element :  The  region  in  which  love  thrives  and  luxuriates. 


26(i  THE    COMPLAINT. 

From  earth's  sad  contrast  (now  deplored)  more  fair ! 
What  exquisite  vicissitude  of  fate  ! 
Bless'd  absolution  of  our  blackest  hour ! 

Lorenzo,  these  are  thoughts  that  make  man  man,  110 

The  wise  illumine,  aggrandize  the  great. 
How  great,  (while  yet  we  tread  the  kindred  clod, 
And  ev'ry  moment  fear  to  sink  beneath 
The  clod  we  tread,  soon  trodden  by  our  sons) 
How  great,  in  the  wild  whirl  of  time's  pursuits,  115 

To  stop,  and  pause  ;  involved  in  high  presage 
Through  the  long  vista  of  a  thousand  years, 
To  stand  contemplating  our  distant  selves, 
As  in  a  magnifying  mirror  seen, 

Enlarged,  ennobled,  elevate,  divine  !  120 

To  prophesy  our  own  futurities  ! 
To  gaze  in  thought  on  what  all  thought  transcends ! 
To  talk,  with  fellow  candidates,  of  joys 
As  far  beyond  conception  as  desert, 
Ourselves  th'  astonish'd  talkers  and  the  tale  !  125 

AN    HONEST    PRIDE. 

Lorenzo,  swells  thy  bosom  at  the  thought  ? 
The  swell  becomes  thee  :  'tis  an  honest  pride. 
Revere  thyself, — and  yet  thyself  despise. 
His  nature  no  man  can  o'er-rate,  and  none 
Can  under-rate  his  merit.     Take  good  heed,  130 

Nor  there  be  modest  where  thou  should'st  be  proud  : 
That  almost  universal  error  shun. 
How  just  our  pride,  when  we  behold  those  heights  ! 

109.  Absolution  of,  &c.  :  Absolution,  or  deliverance,  conferred  by  death. 
112.  How  great:  How  dignified  and  important. 
120.  Elevate:  Elevated. 
125.  The  tale:  The  subjects  of  the  tale. 

27.  An  honest  pride :  The  source  of  an  honourable  and  just  self-esteem. 
131.  The  idea  is,  nor  of  that  think  meanly,  of  which  thou  shouldst  think 
highly ;  namely,  thine  own  nature. 


NIGHT    VI.  25" 

Not  those  ambition  paints  in  air,  but  those 

Reason  points  out,  and  ardent  virtue  gains,  135 

And  angels  emulate.     Our  pride  how  just ! 

When  mount  we  ?  when  these  shackles  cast  ?  when  quit 

This  cell  of  the  creation  ?  this  small  nest, 

Stuck  in  a  corner  of  the  universe, 

"Wrapt  up  in  fleecy  cloud  and  fine-spun  air  ?  1 4-u 

Fine-spun  to  sense,  but  gross  and  feculent 

To  souls  celestial ;  souls  ordained  to  breathe 

Ambrosial  gales,  and  drink  a  purer  sky: 

Greatly  triumphant  on  Time's  farther  shore, 

Where  virtue  reigns,  enrich'd  with  full  arrears,  145 

While  Pomp  imperial  begs  an  alms  of  Peace. 

In  empire  high,  or  in  proud  science  deep, 
Ye  born  of  earth,  on  what  can  you  confer, 
With  half  the  dignity,  with  half  the  gain, 
The  gust,  the  glow  of  rational  delight,  150 

As  on  this  theme,  which  angels  praise  and  share  ! 
Man's  fate  and  favours  are  a  theme  in  heav'n. 

THE    SCENES    AND    OCCUPATIONS    OF    IMMORTALITY. 

What  wretched  repetition  cloys  us  here  ! 
What  periodic  potions  for  the  sick  ! 

Distemper'd  bodies  !  and  distemper'd  minds  !  155 

In  an  eternity  what  scenes  shall  strike  ! 
Adventures  thicken !  novelties  surprise ! 
W'hat  webs  of  wonder  shall  unravel  there  ! 
What  full  day  pour  on  all  the  paths  of  heav'n, 
And  light  th'  Almighty  footsteps  in  the  deep  !  1G0 

134.  Those-  Those  (which). 

143.  Ambrosial :  Fragrant  and  refreshing. 

145.  Full  arrears:  In  the  triumphs  of  the  future  state  the  virtuous  shall 
enjoy  a  full  compensation  for  all  the  evils  of  the  present.  There,  too,  the 
pomp  imperial  of  the  present  shall  be  abjectly  poor,  and  ask  aid  of  the  Peace 
of  the  virtuous  above.  There  seems  to  be  an  allusion  to  the  parable  of  the 
rich  man  and  Lazarus — Luke  16  :  23 — 25. 


258  THE    COMPLAINT. 

How  shall  the  blessed  day  of  our  discharge 
Unwind,  at  once,  the  labyrinths  of  Fate, 
And  straighten  its  inextricable  maze  ! 

If  inextinguishable  thirst  in  man 
To  know;  how  rich,  how  full,  our  banquet  there!  I  65 

There,  not  the  moral  world  alone  unfolds  ; 
The  world  material,  lately  seen  in  shades, 
And  in  those  shades  by  fragments  only  seen, 
And  seen  those  fragments  by  the  lab'ring  eye, 
Unbroken,  then,  illustrious  and  entire,  170 

Its  ample  sphere,  its  universal  frame, 
In  full  dimensions,  swells  to  the  survey  ; 
And  enters,  at  one  glance,  the  ravish'd  sight. 
From  some  superior  point  (where,  who  can  tell  ? 
Suffice  it,  'tis  a  point  where  gods  reside)  175 

How  shall  the  stranger  man's  illumined  eye, 
In  the  vast  ocean  of  unbounded  space. 
Behold  an  infinite  of  floating  worlds 
Divide  the  crystal  waves  of  ether  pure, 

In  endless  voyage,  without  port !     The  least  180 

Of  these  disseminated  orbs  how  great! 
Great  as  they  are,  what  numbers  these  surpass, 
Huge  as  leviathan  to  that  small  race, 
Those  twinkling  multitudes  of  Little  life, 

He  swallows  unperceived!     Stupendous  these  !  185 

iret  what  are  these  stupendous  to  the  whole  ? 
As  particles,  as  atoms  ill  perceived  : 
As  circulating  globules  in  our  veins  ; 
So  vast  the  plan.     Fecundity  divine  ! 

162.  Labyrinths,  &c.  :  See  note  on  Night  IX.  1131. 

166.   Unfolds  (itself). 

170.  Unbroken,  then,  &c  :  a  magnificent  description  here  follows  of  the 
magnitude  and  extent  of  the  universe. 

175.  Gods  :  Our  author  is  fond  of  using  this  term  to  denote  men  in  their 
higher  state  of  being. 

178.  Infinite:  Infinite  number. 


NIGH. 

erhapa  I  wrong  thee  still.  190 

If  admii  «  of  joy, 

What  I  the  1  ast  in  heav'n. 

I . 
Wh  his  hand 

A  -  of  his  po 

nee  all  glory 
As  the  mead'-  •  the  sun 

Which  _  .'     it  '  irth.     But  wh  :'  heav'n? 

Thi-  remely  bl 

-  jive.  200 

By  d  s  of  our  joy  ; 

The  bare  ideas !  sohd  happin 
So  distant  from  its  sJ  low. 

THE    CHASE    OF    A    SHADOW WORLDLV    GOOD. 

And  chase  we  still  the  phantom  through  the  fire, 
0'-  ith  '  205 

As  - 

I 

out  our  precious  all, 
Our 
To  great  futurity)  in  curious  ■  210 

leagn, 
(Fine  ii  in!)  to  catch  a  fly! 

momentary  buzz  of  vain  renown  ! 
A  name  !  a  mortal  immortali 
Or  (m- .  Lead  of  g  g  air,  _  1 5 

.     we  in  the  mire  I 
Drudge,  s  ajh  ev'ry  shame  t  r  i  v*ry  gain, 

For  vile  contaminating  t:  •  up 

190.   I  vrr     _•   - '  inadequate  view  of  Thy  works. 

193.    What        .  fee.  :  The  wonders  of  redemption  are  pronounced  superior 
to  those  of  crea'ior..  all*  yed. 

ght  would  be  worth  the         .-     I 

ideas  of  o 


'Js'iO  Tfifl    COMPLAINT. 

Our  hope  in  heav'n,  our  dignity  with  man, 

And  deity  the  dirt  matured  to  gold?  220 

Ambition,  Av'rice,  the  two  demons  these 

Which  goad  through  ev'ry  slough  our  human  herd, 

Hard  travell'd  from  the  cradle  to  the  grave. 

How  low  the  wretches  stoop  !  how  steep  they  climb  ! 

These  demons  burn  mankind,  but  most  possess  225 

Lorenzo's  bosom,  and  turn  out  the  skies. 

Is  it  in  time  to  hide  eternity  ? 
And  why  not  in  an  atom  on  the  shore 
To  cover  ocean  ?  or  a  mote,  the  sun  ? 

Glory  and  wealth  !  have  they  this  blinding  pow'r  ?  230 

What  if  to  them  I  prove  Lorenzo  blind  ? 
Would  it  surprise  thee  ?     Be  thou  then  surprised  ; 
Thou  neither  know'st :  their  nature  learn  from  me. 

TRUE    AMBITION. 

Mark  well,  as  foreign  as  these  subjects  seem, 
What  close  connection  ties  them  to  my  theme.  235 

First,  what  is  true  ambition  ?  The  pursuit 
Of  glory  nothing  less  than  man  can  share. 
Were  they  as  vain  as  gaudy-minded  man, 
As  flatulent  with  fumes  of  self-applause, 

Their  arts  and  conquests  animals  might  boast,  240 

And  claim  their  laurel  crowns  ;is  well  as  we, 
But  not  celestial.     Here  we  stand  alone  ; 
As  in  our  form,  distinct,  pre-eminent. 
If  prone  in  thought,  our  stature  is  our  shame  ; 
And  man  should  blush,  his  forehead  meets  the  skies.  245 

The  visible  and  present  are  for  brutes, 
A  slender  portion  !  and  a  narrow  bound  ! 
These,  Reason,  with  an  energy  divine, 

227.  In  time:  In  the  power  of  time. 

244.  If  prone  in  thought:  If  our  thoughts  take  a  downward  direction. 

245.  Should  blush,  &c.  :  Should  blush  that  his  forehead  looks   upward 
rather  than  downward  with  the  brutes. 


night  vi.  261 

O'erleaps,  and  claims  the  future  and  unseen : 

The  vast  unseen  !  the  future  fathomless  !  250 

When  the  great  soul  buoys  up  to  this  high  point, 

Leaving  gross  Nature's  sediments  below, 

Then,  and  then  only  Adam's  offspring  quits 

The  sage  and  hero  of  the  fields  and  woods, 

Asserts  his  rank,  and  rises  into  man.  255 

This  is  ambition  ;  this  is  human  fire. 

NEITHER    TALENTS    NOR    STATION    CONSTITUTE  GREATNESS. 

Can  parts,  or  place,  (two  bold  pretenders  !)  make 
Lorenzo  great,  and  pluck  him  from  the  throng  ? 

Genius  and  art,  ambition's  boasted  wings, 
Our  boast  but  ill  deserve.     A  feeble  aid  !  260 

Dedalian  engin'ry  !     If  these  alone 
Assist  our  flight,  fame's  flight  is  glory's  fall. 
Heart-merit  wanting,  mount  we  ne'er  so  high, 
Our  height  is  but  the  gibbet  of  our  name. 
A  celebrated  wretch  when  I  behold,  265 

When  I  behold  a  genius  bright,  and  base, 
Of  tow'ring  talents,  and  terrestrial  aims ; 
Methinks  I  see,  as  thrown  from  her  high  sphere, 
The  glorious  fragments  of  a  soul  immortal, 
With  rubbish  mix'd,  and  glitt'ring  in  the  dust.  270 

Struck  at  the  splendid  melancholy  sight, 

At  once  compassion  soft,  and  envy,  rise 

But  wherefore  envy  ?     Talents  angel-bright, 
If  wanting  worth,  are  shilling  instruments 

257.  Parts,  or  place :  Talents  or  high  station. 

261.  Dedalian  engin'ry:  The  wings  manufactured  by  Daedalus,  alluding 
to  a  classical  table  explained  in  a  former  note.  They  were  of  feathers 
united  by  wax ;  by  the  aid  of  these  wings  he  crossed  a  part  of  the  Mediter- 
ranean sea.  but  his  son,  Icarus,  venturing  to  fly  too  near  the  sun,  the  wax 
melted  and  he  fell  into  the  sea  and  was  lost-  The  next  line  alludes  to  this 
part  of  the  story. 

264.  Gibbet  of  our  name:  A  gallows  on  which  our  name,  or  character,  is 
disgraced. 


202  THE    COMPLAINT. 

In  false  ambition's  hand,  to  finish  faults  275 

Dlustrious,  and  gave  infamy  renown. 

Great  ill  is  an  achievement  of  great  powers  : 
Plain  sense  but  rarely  leads  us  far  astray. 
Reason  the  means,  affections  choose  our  end  ; 
Means  have  no  merit,  if  our  end  amiss.  280 

If  wrong  our  hearts,  our  heads  are  right  in  vain  : 
What  is  a  Pelham's  head  to  Pelham's  heart  ? 
Hearts  are  proprietors  of  all  applause. 
Right  ends  and  means  make  wisdom  :  worldly  wise 
Is  but  half-witted,  at  its  highest  praise.  285 

Let  genius  then  despair  to  make  thee  great ; 
Nor  flatter  station.     What  is  station  high  ? 
'Tis  a  proud  mendicant ;  it  boasts  and  begs  ; 
It  begs  an  alms  of  homage  from  the  throng, 
And  oft  the  throng  denies  its  charity.  290 

Monarchs,  and  ministers,  are  awful  names  ; 
Whoever  wear  them,  challenge  our  devoir. 
Religion,  public  order,  both  exact 
External  homage,  and  a  supple  knee, 

To  beings  pompously  set  up,  to  serve  295 

The  meanest  slave  ;  all  more  is  merit's  due, 
Her  sacred  and  inviolable  right ; 
Nor  ever  paid  the  monarch,  but  the  man. 
Our  hearts  ne'er  bow  but  to  superior  worth  ; 
Nor  ever  fail  of  their  allegiance  there.  300 

Fools,  indeed,  drop  the  man  in  their  account, 
And  vote  the  mantle  into  majesty. 
Let  the  small  savage  boast  his  silver  fur  ; 

279.  Reasoti  (chooses)  the  means. 

282.  Pelham :  Prime   minister  of  Great  Britain,  to  whom  this  Night  is 
dedicated. 

291.  Awful  names  :  Awe-inspiring  names. 

292.  Devoir  :  Service  and  profound  respect. 

296.  Jill  more:  All  more  than  a  merely  external  homage  is  due  to  merit, 
end  not  to  official  dignity. 

303.    Silver  fur:    Fur  adorned  with  silver. 


NIGHT    VI.  283 

His  royal  robe  unborrow'd,  and  uabought, 

His  own,  descending  fairly  from  his  sires.  305 

Shall  man  be  proud  to  wear  his  livery, 

And  souls  in  ermine  scorn  a  soul  without  ? 

Can  place  or  lessen  us  or  aggrandize  ? 

Pigmies  are  pigmies  still,  though  perch'd  on  Alps  ; 

And  pyramids  are  pyramids  in  vales.  310 

Each  man  makes  his  own  stature,  builds  himself: 

Virtue  alone  outbuilds  the  pyramids ; 

Her  monuments  shall  last,  when  Egypt's  fall. 

Of  these  sure  truths  dost  thou  demand  the  cause  ? 
The  cause  is  lodged  in  immortality.  315 

Hear,  and  assent.     Thy  bosom  burns  for  power  ; 

306.  His  livery :  The  dress  distinguishing  the  servants  of  such  a  king. 

307.  Ermine:  Costly  fur. 
SOS.  Place  or  :  Place  either. 

309.  Pigmies:  Persons  of  diminutive  size.  The  Pigmaaan  nation  (whence 
this  word),  according  to  an  ancient  fable,  were  composed  of  beings  of  only 
a  few  inches  in  stature,  celebrated  for  the  war  waged  by  them  in  Egypt 
upon  cranes. 

312.  Outbuilds  the  pyramids :  Builds  a  more  enduring  monument  than  the 
pyramids.  These  were  monuments  of  massive  masonry,  which,  from  a 
square  base,  rise  by  regular  gradations  till  they  terminate  in  a  point,  but  so 
that  the  width  of  the  base  always  exceeds  the  perpendicular  height.  The 
pyramids  commence  immediately  south  of  Cairo,  but  on  the  opposite  bank 
of  the  Nile,  and  extend  in  an  uninterrupted  range  for  many  miles  in  a 
southerly  direction  parallel  with  the  banks  of  the  river.  One  of  these  occu- 
pies an  area  of  more  than  thirteen  acres.  Its  perpendicular  height  is  4S0 
feet,  being  43  feet  higher  than  St.  Peter's  at  Rome,  and  136  feet  higher 
than  St.  Paul's  in  London.  Herodotus  says  that  100,000  men  were  occu- 
pied twenty  years  in  the  construction  of  this  enormous  edifice.  It  consists 
of  successive  tiers  of  vast  blocks  of  calcareous  stone,  rising  above  each 
other  in  the  form  of  steps,  the  thickness  of  the  stones,  and  of  course  the 
height  of  the  steps,  decreasing  as  the  altitude  of  the  pyramid  increases  :  thus 
varying  from  4£  to  1A  feet  in  height. 

It  is  not  clearly  known  for  what  purpose,  or  by  whom  the  pyramids 
were  built:  but  the  most  probable  opinion  is,  that  they  were  intimately  con- 
nected with  the  religion  of  the  ancient  Egyptians,  and  that  they  were  at 
jnce  a  species  of  tombs  and  temples,  but  chiefly  of  the  latter  character. — 
Brande. 


264  THE    COMPLAINT. 

What  station  charms  thee  ?     I'll  install  thee  there ; 

'Tis  thine.     And  art  thou  greater  than  before  ? 

Then  thou  before  wast  something  less  than  man. 

Has  thy  new  post  betray'd  thee  into  pride  ?  320 

That  treach'rous  pride  betrays  thy  dignity ; 

That  pride  defames  humanity,  and  calls 

The  being  mean,  which  staffs  or  strings  can  raise. 

That  pride,  like  hooded  hawks,  in  darkness  soars, 

From  blindness  bold,  and  tow'ring  to  the  skies.  .325 

'Tis  born  of  ignorance,  which  knows  not  man : 

An  angel's  second ;  nor  his  second  long. 

A  Nero  quitting  his  imperial  throne, 

S20.  Betrayed:  Misled. 

321.  Betrays  :  Is  unfaithful  to  thy  true  dignity;  does  violence  to  it. 

322-  Humanity  :  Human  nature. 

324.  Hooded  hawks :  An  allusion  is  here  made  to  the  amusement  of 
falconry,  which  prevailed  over  Europe  in  the  middle  ages.  It  was  a 
favourite  sport  with  princes  and  nobles,  especially  in  France.  It  had  this 
advantage  of  hunting,  that  ladies  could  engage  in  it,  who  were  delighted  to 
carry  the  falcon  (or  hawk)  on  their  wrists.  The  knight  had  the  charge  of 
flying  the  bird  at  the  right  moment,  of  following  her,  of  encouraging  by 
calls,  taking  the  prey  from  her,  caressing  her,  and  placing  her  gracefully  on 
the  wrist  of  her  mistress.  All  kinds  of  birds  and  even  gazelles  are  pursued 
by  trained  hawks,  that  fasten  themselves  upon  the  heads  of  these  creatures 
and  peck  at  their  eyes,  which  checks  them  till  the  hounds  can  come  up. 
Wolves  were  formerly  hunted  in  the  same  way  in  Europe.  The  falcons 
intended  for  this  sport,  were  taken  young  from  the  nest,  and  fed  for  months 
with  the  raw  flesh  of  pigeons  and  wild  birds  before  they  were  inured  to  sit- 
ting on  the  hand,  to  which  they  were  accustomed  by  resting  on  posts,  &c. 
They  were  afterwards  made  tame  by  being  deprived,  for  a  long  time,  of 
sleep,  and  inured  to  endure  a  leathern  hood,  or  covering.  At  first  they  were 
tied  with  a  string  about  thirty  fathoms  in  length,  to  prevent  them  from  flying 
away,  from  which  they  were  not  released  till  they  were  completely  disci- 
plined, so  as  to  return  at  the  proper  signal.  When  taken  into  the  field  they 
were  always  capped,  or  hooded,  so  as  to  see  no  object  but  their  game,  and  as 
soon  as  the  dogs  stopped,  or  sprung  it,  the  falcon  was  unhooded  and  tossed 
into  the  air  after  her  prey. — Enq/c.  Jlmeric. 

327.  An  angel's  second,  &c.  :  Man  is  now  second  only  to  the  angels ;  nor 
shall  he  long  continue  thus  inferior,  but  shall  equal  or  perhaps  surpass  the 
anjrel. 


And  cou:  :.^J. 

But  faintly  b!  -        immortal  soul,  330 

With  em]  tire  fired. 

If  nobler  motives  mi  cure, 

hee  to  be 
HigL  '  ice ;  'tis  more ; 

It  makes  the  post  stand  candidate  for  thee : 

329.  String  -.  Xero  counted  it  more  glory  to  play  well  upon  a  fiddle  or 
guitar  than  to  perform  the  appropriate  duties  of  an  emperor,  or  occupy  his 
throne. 

331.  Fired,  to  pride  or  rapture  by  ssion  even  of  empire  itself. 

333.  E'en  vanity  forbids  thee  to  be  vain  :  Dr.  Thomas  Brown  has  presented 
some  discriminating  observations  upon  pride  and  vanity,  worthy  of  being 
here  introduced. 

o  I  define  pride  to  be  that  emotion  whicl  '.he  contemplation 

of  our  excellence,  I  must  be  understood  as   limiting  the  phrase  to  th~ 
emoticm  that  immediately  follows  the  contemplation.     The  feeling  of  our 

to  various  other  affections  of 
the  mir.d.     I  impress  others  !  -  possible  with  our 

superiority  :  which  we  may  do  in  two  -  —  by  presenting  to  them  at 

every  moment  some  proofs  oi  our  or  in  the  gifts 

of  fortune  :  or  by 

scorn  with  which  we  treat  them.     The  former  of  these  modes  of  cor. 
which  we  studiously  bring  for*  real  or  supposed  advantages  which 

we  pc-  it  is  commonly  termed  vanity ;  the  lal  ich  we 

e  real  or  supposed  comparative  meanness 
of  these,  is  what  is  corr.mo:.'  both,  though  they 

ise  from  our  mere  comparison  of  ourselves  and  others  and  our  conse- 
quent feeling  of  supc  ?.re  the  remits  pride  itself. 
■  e  the  internal  emotion,  which  is  all  that  is  truly  pride,  together 
,o  much  sense  to  seek  the  gratification  of  our  vanity  by  an}"  c 
of  excelie:                    mtial  or  frivolous  :  sh.ee.  however  desir 
that  these  i            _     -.:ou!d  be  known, we  may  have  the  certai: 
they  could  not  be  made  known  by  ourselves  without  the  risk  of  our  appearing 
ridiculous.     In  like  manner  we  may  be  internally  very  full  of  our  own  im- 
portar                                                 be  good  opinion  even  of  our  infer 
treat  them  with  the  so:,                                       to  make  a  more  pleasing  sup- 
position, too  humanely  considerate  of  their  u  ?m  by 
forcing  on  them  the  painful  feeling  of  their  inferiority,  however  gratifying 
f  be  to  ourselves. — Philosophy  of  Mind,  vol.  ii.  464-5. 
33f).  Mikes  the  post.  &c.  :  High  worth  does  not  need  to  seek  a  post  of  dis- 
tinction, but  i'»  sought  to  occupy  it. 


206  TIIK    COMPLAINT. 

Wakes  more  than  monarchs,  makes  an  honest  man  ; 

Though  no  exchequer  it  commands,  'tis  wealth  ; 

And  though  it  wears  no  riband,  'tis  renown  ; 

Renown,  that  would  not  quit  thee,  tho'  disgraced, 

Nor  leave  thee  pendent  on  a  master's  smile.  340 

Other  ambition  nature  interdicts  ; 

Nature  proclaims  it  most  absurd  in  man, 

By  pointing  at  his  origin,  and  end  : 

Milk,  and  a  swathe,  at  first  his  whole  demand  ; 

His  whole  domain,  at  last,  a  turf  or  stone ;  345 

To  whom,  between,  a  world  may  seem  too  small. 

Souls,  truly  great,  dart  forward  on  the  wing 
Of  just  ambition,  to  the  grand  result, 
The  curtain's  fall.     There,  see  the  buskin'd  chief 
Unshod  behind  this  momentary  scene  ;  350 

Reduced  to  his  own  stature,  low  or  high 
As  vice,  or  virtue,  sinks  him,  or  sublimes ; 
And  laugh  at  this  fantastic  mummery, 
This  antic  prelude  of  grotesque  events, 

Where  dwarfs  are  often  stilted,  and  betray  355 

A  littleness  of  soul  by  worlds  o'er-run, 
And  nations  laid  in  blood.     Dread  sacrifice 

337.  Exchequer :  Treasury ;  deriving  the  name,  as  is  supposed,  from  the 
checkered  cloth  that  originally  covered  the  table  used  by  the  court,  whose 
business  it  was  to  decide  upon  law  cases  connected  with  the  royal  revenue 
of  Great  Britain. 

338.  Riband :  That  is,  as  a  badge  of  honour. 
340.  Pendent :  Dependent. 

346.  Between  (the  time  of  the  former  and  the  latter). 

349.  The  curtain' 's  fall :  There  is  an  allusion  here  to  the  idea  that  the 
world  may  be  regarded  as  a  theatrical  stage  on  which  all  men  are  acting 
their  respective  parts  ;  at  the  close  the  curtain  falls.  By  the  buskin'd  chief 
is  meant  a  man  who  has  held  a  superior  station  in  society.  An  ambitious 
and  wicked  man  may  seem  to  perform  here  a  grand  part ;  but  it  appears 
ridiculous  enough  in  contrast  with  his  sad  and  degraded  state  in  the  fu- 
ture world. 

3f>4.  By  worlds  o'er-run,  &c. :  A  just  estimate  is  here  pronounced  of  the 
Alexanders  and  Napoleons  of  the  earth,  falsely  called  great.  They  were 
intellectually  and  physically  great.,  but  morally  small. 


NIGHT    VI.  'J67 

To  Christian  pride !  which  had  with  horror  shock'd 
The  darkest  Pagans,  ofier'd  to  their  gods. 

O  thou  most  Christian  enemy  to  peace!  360 

Again  in  arms  ?  again  provoking  fate  \ 
That  prince,  and  that  alone,  is  truly  great, 
"Who  draws  the  sword  reluctant,  gladly  sheathes  ; 
On  empire  bvulds  what  empire  far  outweighs, 
And  makes  his  throne  a  scaffold  to  the  skies.  365 

Why  this  so  rare  ?     Because  forgot  of  all 
The  day  of  death  ;  that  venerable  day, 
Which  sits  as  judge  ;  that  day  which  shall  pronounce 
On  all  our  days,  absolve  them,  or  condemn. 
Lorenzo,  never  shut  thy  thought  against  it ;  370 

Be  levees  ne'er  so  full,  afford  it  room, 
And  give  it  audience  in  the  cabinet. 
That  friend  consulted  (flatteries  apart) 
Will  tell  thee  fair,  if  thou  art  great  or  mean 

To  doat  on  aught  may  leave  us,  or  be  left,  375 

Is  that  ambition  ?     Then  let  flames  descend, 
Point  to  the  centre  their  inverted  spires, 
And  learn  humiliation  from  a  soul 
Which  boasts  her  lineage  from  celestial  fire. 
Yet  these  are  thev  the  world  pronounces  wise  ;  380 

The  world,  which  cancels  nature's  right  and  wrong, 
And  casts  new  wisdom  :  e'en  the  grave  man  lends 

358.  Christian  pride :  Pride  of  those  belonging  to  what  are  called  Chris- 
tian countries.  Properly  speaking,  there  is  no  such  trait  as  Christian  pride. 
Pride  is  anti-Christian. 

360.  Most  Christian,  &c-  :  A  satirical  reference  to  some  monarch  of  a 
Christian  country.  About  this  lime  most  of  the  nations  of  Europe  were 
waging  war.  Great  Britain  included.  Perhaps  the  author  meant  it  to  be 
applicable  to  George  II.  5ret  as  a  matter  of  policy  so  expresses  the  sentiment 
that  it  mav  be  applied  to  any  other  of  the  belligerent  monarchs.  Austria, 
Russia,  and  Great  Britain  were  united  in  opposition  to  France.  Prussia,  Ba- 
varia, and  Sweden. 

371.  Levees :  Concourse  of  visitors  on  set  days. 

377.   Centre  (of  the  earth). 


268  THE    COMPLAINT. 

His  solemn  face  to  countenance  the  coin. 

Wisdom  for  parts  is  madness  for  the  whole. 

This  stamps  the  paradox,  and  gives  us  leave  885 

To  call  the  wisest  weak,  the  richest  poor, 

The  most  ambitious,  unambitious,  mean  ; 

In  triumph  mean,  and  abject  on  a  throne. 

Nothing  can  make  it  less  than  mad  in  man, 

To  put  forth  all  his  ardour,  all  his  art,  300 

And  give  his  soul  her  full  unbounded  flight. 

But  reaching  Him,  who  gave  her  wings  to  fly. 

"When  blind  ambition  quite  mistakes  her  road, 

And  downward  pores,  for  that  which  shines  above, 

Substantial  happiness,  and  true  renown  ;  395 

Then,  like  an  idiot  gazing  on  the  brook, 

"We  leap  at  stars,  and  fasten  in  the  mud ; 

At  glory  grasp,  and  sink  in  infamy. 

Ambition  !  pow'rful  source  of  good  and  ill ! 
Thy  strength  in  man,  like  length  of  wing  in  birds,  400 

"When  disengaged  from  earth,  with  greater  ease 
And  swifter  flight  transports  us  to  the  skies  ; 
By  toys  entangled,  or  in  guilt  bemired, 
It  turns  a  curse  :  it  is  our  chain  and  scourge 
In  this  dark  dungeon,  where  confined  we  lie,  405 

Close  grated  by  the  sordid  bars  of  sense ; 
All  prospect  of  eternity  shut  out 
And,  but  for  execution,  ne'er  set  free. 

TRUE    WEALTH IN    OUR    CORPOREAL    SENSES. 

"With  error  in  ambition  justly  charged, 
Find  wo  Lorenzo  wiser  in  his  wealth  ?  4K> 

What  if  thy  rental  I  reform,  and  draw 
An  inventory  new  to  set  thee  right  ? 

384.  For  parts,  &c.  :  That  is,  for  certain  parts  only. 

396.  Like  anidiot,  &c.  :  A  very  striking  and  illustrative  comparison,  pre- 
senting also  a  strong  antithesis,  or  contrast 
411.      Rental:   A  ooount  of  rents. 


NIGHT    VI.  269 

Where  thy  true  treasure  ?     Gold  says,  '  Not  in  me  :' 

And  '  Xot  iu  me,'  the  diamond.     Gold  is  poor ; 

India's  insolvent :  seek  it  in  thyself,  415 

Seek  in  thy  naked  self,  and  find  it  there ; 

In  being  so  descended,  form'd,  endow'd  ; 

Sky-born,  sky-guided,  sky-returning  race  ! 

Erect,  immortal,  rational,  divine  ! 

In  senses,  which  inherit  earth  and  heav'ns  ;  420 

Enjoy  the  various  riches  nature  yields ; 

Far  nobler,  give  the  riches  they  enjoy ; 

Give  taste  to  fruits,  and  harmony  to  groves  ; 

Then  radiant  beams  to  gold,  and  gold's  bright  sire  ; 

Take  in,  at  once,  the  landscape  of  the  world  425 

At  a  small  inlet,  which  a  grain  might  close, 

And  half  create  the  wondrous  world  they  see. 

415.  Seek  it :  Seek  true  treasure. 

420.  In  senses,  &c.  :  Find  thy  true  treasure  (413)  in  the  senses,  which  in- 
herit, &c,  enjoy,  &c,  give,  &c,  take  in,  &c,  and  half  create,  &c.  It  would  be 
difficult  to  find  a  more  admirable  account  of  the  wealth  which  we  enjoy  in 
our  five  senses :  none  can  read  it  properly  without  gratitude  to  the  benefi- 
cent Creator.  In  vain  were  all  the  objects  around  us  provided  if  these  won- 
derful senses  had  not  been  conferred  upon  ourselves.  Those  objects  are  not 
the  cause,  but  simply  the  occasion  of  our  enjoyments  (431) .  Our  senses 
give  taste  to  fruits,  and  harmony  to  groves,  &c.  :  that  is.  fruits  would  afford  us 
no  relish ;  the  songsters  of  the  groves  would  yield  no  pleasures  to  us,  if  we 
had  not  the  sense  of  taste,  and  the  sense  of  hearing.  And  how  astonishing 
is  the  fact  announced  so  beautifully  in  (42-3-7)  ?  That  rays  of  light  from  a 
landscape  of  several  miles  in  diameter  should  be  so  admitted  through  the 
pupil  of  the  eye,  with  a  diameter  of  about  an  eighth  of  an  inch  only,  that  the 
landscape,  in  all  its  manifold  tints  of  beauty  or  of  grandeur,  shall  be  clearly 
and  most  delightfully  depicted  on  the  back  part  of  the  interior  of  the  eye, 
and  perceived  by  the  mind. 

425-7.  The  wonders  of  vision,  and  the  wisdom  of  Deity  displayed  in  the 
arrangements  for  this  purpose,  are  admirably  portrayed  by  Dr.  Thomas 
Dick  in  his  Christian  Philosopher:  we  cannot  refrain  from  transcribing  some 
of  his  remarks. 

The  myriads  of  rays  of  light  which  flow  from  the  minutest  points  of  the 
surrounding  scene,  before  they  can  produce  the  sensation  of  vision  and  form 
a  picture  of  the  landscape  upon  the  retina,  must  be  compressed  into  a  space 
little  more  than  one  eighth  of  an  inch  in  diameter  before  they  can  enter  the 


270  THE    COMPLAINT. 

Our  senses,  as  our  reason,  are  divine. 

But  for  the  magic  organ's  pow'rful  charm, 

Earth  were  a  rude  uncolour'd  chaos  still.  430 

Objects  are  hut  th'  occasion ;  ours  th'  exploit : 

Ours  is  the  cloth,  the  pencil,  and  the  paint, 

Which  nature's  admirable  picture  draws, 

And  beautifies  creation's  ample  dome. 

Like  Milton's  Eve,  when  gazing  on  the  lake,  435 

Man  makes  the  matchless  image,  man  admires  : 

Say  then,  shall  man,  his  thoughts  all  sent  abroad, 

pupil  of  the  eye ;  yet  they  all  pass  through  this  small  aperture  without  the 
least  compression,  and  paint  the  images  of  their  respective  objects  in  exactly 
the  same  order  in  which  these  objects  are  arranged.  Again  :  could  a  painter, 
after  a  long  series  of  ingenious  efforts,  delineate  the  extensive  landscape  be- 
fore me  on  a  piece  of  paper  not  exceeding  the  size  of  a  silver  sixpence 
(dime)  so  that  every  object  might  be  as  distinctly  seen,  in  its  proper  shape 
and  colour,  as  it  now  appears  when  I  survey  the  scene  around  me  in  nature, 
he  would  be  incomparably  superior  to  all  the  masters  of  his  art  that  ever 
went  before  him.  This  effect,  which  far  transcends  the  utmost  efforts  of 
human  genius,  is  accomplished  in  a  moment  by  the  hand  of  nature,  or,  in 
other  words  by  "  the  finger  of  God."  All  the  objects  I  am  now  surveying, 
comprehending  an  extent  of  a  thousand  square  miles,  are  accurately  delineated 
in  the  bottom  of  my  eye  on  a  space  less  than  half  an  inch  in  diameter. 
How  delicate  then  must  be  the  strokes  of  that  pencil  which  has  formed  such 
a  picture ! 

428.  Divine  :  Not  only  of  divine  origin,  but  of  amazing  power  and  exqui- 
site susceptibilities. 

429.  Magic  organ:  The  organ  of  vision. 

432.  Ours  is  the  cloth,  &c.  :  We  furnish  the  necessary  materials  for  the 
picture  which  Nature  draws  :  that  is,  without  the  apparatus  of  the  eye  and 
sense  of  vision  in  us,  all  creation,  to  us,  would  be  a  blank. 

435.  Like  Milton's  Eve,  &c.  :  Paradise  Lost,  Bk.  IV.  456—471. 

"  I  thither  went 
With  unexperienced  thought,  and  laid  me  down 
On  the  green  bank,  to  look  into  the  clear 
Smooth  lake,  that  to  me  seem*d  another  sky. 
As  I  bent  down  to  look,  just  opposite 
A  shape  within  the  wat'ry  gleam  appear'd, 
Bending  to  look  on  me.     I  started  back ; 
It  started  back :  but  pleased  I  soon  return'd ; 
Pleased  it  rcturn'd  as  soon  with  answ'ring  look* 
Of  sympathy  and  love  :"  &.o. 


NIGHT    VI.  271 

(Superior  'wonders  in  himself  forgot) 

His  admiration  waste  on  objects  round, 

When  Heav'n  makes  him  the  soul  of  all  he  sees  ?  440 

Absurd !  not  rare  !  so  great,  so  mean,  is  man. 

TRUE    WEALTH,    IN    THE    INTELLECTUAL    AND    MORAL    rOWKRS. 

What  wealth  in  senses  such  as  these  !     What  wealth 
In  fancy,  fired  to  form  a  fairer  scene 
Than  sense  surreys  !     In  memory's  firm  record, 
Which,  should  it  perish,  could  this  world  recall  445 

From  the  dark  shadows  of  o'erwhelming  years  ! 
In  colours  fresh,  originally  bright, 
Preserve  its  portrait,  and  report  its  fate  ! 
What  wealth  in  intellect,  that  sov'reign  pow'r  ; 
Which  sense  and  fancy  summons  to  the  bar;  460 

Interrogates,  approves,  or  reprehends  ; 
And  from  the  mass  those  underlings  import, 
From  their  materials  sifted  and  refined, 
And  in  truth's  balance  accurately  weigh'd, 
Forms  art  and  science,  government  and  law;  455 

The  solid  basis,  aud  the  beauteous  frame, 
The  vitals  and  the  grace  of  civil  life  ! 
And  manners  (sad  exception  !)  set  aside, 
Strikes  out,  with  master-hand,  a  copy  fair 
Of  His  idea,  whose  indulgent  thought,  460 

Long,  long,  ere  chaos  teem'd,  plann'd  human  bliss. 

What  wealth  in  souls  that  soar,  dive,  range  around, 

440.  The  soul:  That  which  gives  value  to  all  he  sees:  that  which  alone 
enables  us  to  apprehend  the  existence,  and  appreciate  the  beauties  of  the 
external  world. 

441.  How  absurd  then,  yet  how  common  for  man  to  send  his  thoughts 
perpetually  abroad,  and  to  overlook  the  wonders  in  his  own  physical  con- 
stitution. 

445.  Should  it  perish :  Should  the  world  perish. 

447.  Originally  bright :  Bright  as  at  first. 

452-  Those  underlings  :  The  bodily  senses,  and  fancy. 

458-  Set  aside :    (being)  set  aside. 


272  THE    COMPLAINT. 

Disdaining  limit  or  from  place  or  time  ; 

And  hear  at  once,  in  thought  extensive,  hear 

Th'  almighty  fiat,  and  the  trumpet's  sound  !  465 

Bold,  on  creation's  outside  walk,  and  view 

"What  was,  and  is,  and  more  than  e'er  shall  be  ; 

Commanding,  with  omnipotence  of  thought, 

Creations  new  in  fancy's  field  to  rise  ! 

Souls,  that  can  grasp  whate'er  th'  Almighty  made,  470 

And  wander  wild  through  things  impossible  ! 

What  wealth,  in  faculties  of  endless  growth, 

In  quenchless  passions  violent  to  crave, 

In  liberty  to  choose,  in  pow'r  to  reach, 

And  in  duration,  (how  thy  riches  rise  !)  475 

Duration  to  perpetuate — boundless  bliss  ! 

Ask  you,  what  pow'r  resides  in  feeble  man 
That  bliss  to  gain  ?     Is  virtue's,  then,  unknown  ? 
Virtue,  our  present  peace,  our  future  prize. 
Man's  unprecarious  natural  estate,  480 

Improveable  at  will,  in  virtue  lies  ; 
•  Its  tenure  sure  :  its  income  is  divine. 

HIGH-BUILT    ABUNDANCE  :    OF   WHAT   USE  ? 

High-built  abundance,  heap  on  heap !  for  what  ? 
To  breed  new  wants  and  beggar  us  the  more  ; 
Then,  make  a  richer  scramble  for  the  throng.  485 

Soon  as  this  feeble  pulse,  which  leaps  so  long 
Almost  by  miracle,  is  tired  with  play, 
Like  rubbish  from  disploding  engines  thrown, 

463.   Or  from  place :  Either  from,  &c. 

465.  The  voice  of  God  as  he  created  the  world,  speaking  it  into  being ;  ■ 
and  the  archangel's  trump,  at  the  close  of  this  world's  history,  summoning  to 
judgment  and  retribution  all  that  have  dwelt  upon  it. 

466.  That  walk  boldly  on  creation's  outside — its  farthest  limits,  &c.  The 
powers  of  the  mind  (from  442  to  476)  are  described  not  only  with  great 
poetic  beauty,  but  with  equal  philosophical  exactness  and  fullness 

483.  For  what  ?  For  what  purpose  is  such  abundance  piled  up? 

488.  Disploding  engines,  &c.  :    Bursting  shells,  filled   with  rubbish.     No 


NIGHT    VI.  273 

Our  magazines  of  hoarded  trifles  fly ; 

Fly  diverse  ;  fly  to  foreigners,  to  foes  ;  490 

New  masters  court,  and  call  the  former  fools, 

(How  justly  !)  for  dependence  on  their  stay. 

Wide  scatter,  first,  our  playthings  ;  then,  our  dust. 

Dost  court  abundance  for  the  sake  of  peace  ? 
Learn,  and  lament  thy  self-defeated  scheme :  4(J5 

Riches  enable  to  be  richer  still ; 
And,  richer  still,  what  mortal  can  resist  ? 
Thus  wealth  (a  cruel  task-master  !)  enjoins 
New  toils,  succeeding  toils,  an  endless  train ! 
And  murders  peace,  which  taught,  it  first  to  shine.  500 

The  poor  are  half  as  wretched  as  the  rich, 
Whose  proud  and  painful  privilege  it  is, 
At  once,  to  bear  a  double  load  of  wo  : 
To  feel  the  stings  of  envy  and  of  want, 
Outrageous  want !  both  Indies  cannot  cure.  505 

A  competence  is  vital  to  content. 
Much  wealth  is  corpulence,  if  not  disease  ; 
Sick,  or  eneumber'd,  is  our  happiness. 
A  competence  is  all  we  can  enjoy. 

O  be  content,  where  heav'n  can  give  no  more  '  510 

More,  like  a  flash  of  water  from  a  lock, 
Quickens  our  spirit's  movement  for  an  hour  ; 
But  soon  its  force  is  spent,  nor  rise  our  joys 
Above  our  native  temper's  common  stream. 
Hence  disappointment  lurks  in  ev'ry  prize,  515 

As  bees  in  flow'rs,  and  stings  us  with  success. 

The  rich  man  who  denies  it  proudly  feigns, 
Nor  knows  the  wise  are  privy  to  the  lie. 
Much  learning  shows  how  little  mortals  know ; 
Much  wealth,  how  little  worldlings  can  enjoy  :  520 

comparison  could  be  more  fit  or  impressive,  to  represent  the  scattering  of 
hoarded  wealth  among  avaricious  survivors. 

S04.   Want:  Mental  want — desire. 

511.  More  (than  a  competence) 
12* 


274  THE    COMPLAINT. 

At  best,  it  babies  us  with  endless  toys, 

And  keeps  us  children  till  we  drop  to  dust. 

As  monkeys  at  a  mirror  stand  amazed, 

They  fail  to  find  what  they  so  plainly  see ; 

Thus  men,  in  shining  riches,  see  the  face  525 

Of  happiness,  nor  know  it  is  a  shade, 

But  gaze,  and  touch,  and  peep,  and  peep  again, 

And  wish,  and  wonder  it  is  absent  still. 

How  few  can  rescue  opulence  from  want ! 
"Who  lives  to  nature  rarely  can  be  poor ;  530 

Who  lives  to  fancy  never  can  be  rich. 
Poor  is  the  man  in  debt ;  the  man  of  gold, 
In  debt  to  fortune,  trembles  at  her  pow'r : 
The  man  of  reason  smiles  at  her  and  death. 
O  what  a  patrimony  this  !     A  being  535 

Of  such  inherent  strength  and  majesty, 
Not  worlds  possess'd  can  raise  it ;  worlds  destroy'd 
Can't  injure  ;  which  holds  on  its  glorious  course, 
When  thine,  O  Nature !  ends  ;  too  blest  to  mourn 
Creation's  obsequies.     What  treasure  this !  540 

The  monarch  is  a  beggar  to  the  man. 

529.   Want:  See  (504). 

530-1.    To  nature,  &c.  :   To  fancy  :  Agreeably  to,  &c. 

535-41.  O  what  a  patrimony  this  ?  &c.  "  There  is  but  one  object,-'  says 
Augustine,  "  greater  than  the  soul,  and  that  one  is  its  creator."  "  Nihil  est 
potentius  ilia  creatura  quae  mens  dicitur  rationalis,  nihil  est  sublimius. 
Quicquid  supra  illam  est  jam  Creator  est."  When  we  consider  the  powers 
of  his  mind,  even  without  reference  to  the  wonders  which  he  has  produced 
on  earth,  what  room  does  man  afford  for  astonishment  and  admiration  !  His 
senses,  his  memory,  his  reason,  the  past,  the  present,  the  future,  the  whole 
universe,  and,  if  the  universe  have  any  limits,  even  more  than  the  whole 
universe  comprised  in  a  single  thought ;  and,  amid  all  these  changes  of  feel- 
ings that  succeed  each  other  in  rapid  and  endless  variety,  a  permanent  and 
unchangeable  duration  compared  with  which  the  duration  of  external  things 
is  but  the  existence  of  a  moment. — Erou-n's  Phil,  of  Mind,  vol.  i.  62. 

541.  Beggar  to  the  man :  Is  poor  compared  with  the  man.  The  advan- 
tages of  royalty  are  contemptible  when  compared  with  the  simple  endow- 
ments of  humanity.  The  strength  and  majesty  (536)  inherent  in  man  as 
man. 


NIGHT    VI.  275 


IMMORTALITY   DEFINED    AND    ILLUSTRATED. 

Immortal !     Ages  past,  yet  nothing  gone  ! 
Morn  without  eve  !  a  race  without  a  goal ! 
Unshorten'd  by  progression  infinite  ! 

Futurity  for  ever  future  !     Life  54o 

Beginning  still,  where  computation  ends ! 
'Tis  the  description  of  a  deity  ! 
'Tis  the  description  of  the  meanest  slave ! 
The  meanest  slave  dares  then  Lorenzo  scorn  ? 
The  meanest  slave  thy  sov'reign  glory  shares.  550 

Proud  youth  !  fastidious  of  the  lower  world  ! 
Man's  lawful  pride  includes  humility  ; 
Stoops  to  the  lowest ;  is  too  great  to  find 
Inferiors  ;  all  immortal !  brothers  all ! 
Proprietors  eternal  of  thy  love.  555 

Immortal !  What  can  strike  the  sense  so  strong, 
As  this  the  soul  ?     It  thunders  to  the  thought ; 
Reason  amazes ;  gratitude  o'erwhelms  ; 
No  more  we  slumber  on  the  brink  of  fate ; 
Roused  at  the  sound,  th'  exulting  soul  ascends,  560 

And  breathes  her  native  air  ;  an  air  that  feeds 
Ambitions  high,  and  fans  ethereal  fires  ; 
Quick  kindles  all  that  is  divine  within  us, 
Nor  leaves  one  loit'rinp-  thought  beneath  the  stars. 

Has  not  Lorenzo's  bosom  caught  the  flame  ?  505 

Immortal !     Were  but  one  immortal,  how 

DOT.  As  this  the  soul.  kc.  :  As  this  idea  of  immortality  strikes  the  soul. 
To  the  thinking  mind  it  seems  to  have  a  voice  of  thunder.  The  entire  pa- 
ragraph and  the  one  that  follows,  receive  illustration  from  what  an  able 
writer  has  said : — "  No  doctrine  is  more  common  among  Christians  than  (hat 
of  man's  immortality ;  but  it  is  not  so  generally  understood,  that  the  gerrns 
or  principles  of  his  whole  future  being  are  now  wrapped  up  in  his  soul,  as 
the  rudiments  of  the  future  plant  in  the  seed.  As  a  necessary  result  of  this 
constitution,  the  soul,  possessed  and  moved  by  these  mighty  though  infant 
energies,  is  perpetually  stretching  beyond  what  is  present  and  visible,  strug- 
gling against  the  bounds  of  its  earthiy  prison  house,  and  seeking  relief  and 
joy  in  imaginings  of  unseen  ana  ideai  being."  i 


276  THE    COMPLAINT. 

Would  others  envy !  how  would  thrones  adore  ! 

Because  'tis  common,  is  the  blessing  lost  ? 

How  this  ties  up  the  bounteous  hand  of  Heav'n ! 

0  vain,  vain,  vain,  all  else !     Eternity  !  570 

A  glorious,  and  a  needful  refuge,  that, 

From  vile  imprisonment  in  abject  views. 

'Tis  immortality,  'tis  that  alone, 

Amid  life's  pains,  abasements,  emptiness, 

The  soul  can  comfort,  elevate,  and  fill.  575 

That  only,  and  that  amply,  this  performs  ; 

Lifts  us  above  life's  pains,  her  joys  above  ; 

Their  terror  those,  and  these  their  lustre  lose ; 

Eternity  depending,  covers  all ; 

Eternity  depending,  all  achieves  ;  580 

Sets  earth  at  distance  ;  casts  her  into  shades  ; 

Blends  her  distinctions  ;  abrogates  her  pow'rs  ; 

The  low,  the  lofty,  joyous,  and  severe, 

Fortune's  dread  frowns  and  fascinating  smiles, 

Make  one  promiscuous  and  neglected  heap,  585 

The  man  beneath ;  if  I  may  call  him  man, 

Whom  immortality's  full  force  inspires. 

Nothing  terrestrial  touches  his  high  thought : 

Suns  shine  unseen,  and  thunders  roll  unheard, 

By  minds  quite  conscious  of  their  high  descent,  590 

Their  present  province  and  their  future  prize  ; 

Divinely  darting  upward  ev'ry  wish, 

Warm  on  the  wing,  in  glorious  absence  lost. 

Doubt  you  this  truth  ?     Why  labours  your  belief? 
If  earth's  whole  orb,  by  some  due  distanced  eye  595 

Were  seen  at  once,  her  tow'ring  Alps  would  sink, 
And  levell'd  Atlas  leave  an  even  sphere. 
Thus  earth,  and  all  that  earthly  minds  admire, 
Is  swallow'd  in  eternity's  vast  round. 

667.  Thrones :  occupants  of  thrones. 

571.  That:    (is)  that. 

579.  Depending:  Hanging  over. 


NIGHT    VI.  27  7 

To  that  stupendous  view,  when  souls  awake,  600 

So  large  of  late,  so  mountainous  to  man, 
Time's  toys  subside ;  and  equal  all  below. 

Enthusiastic,  this  ?  then  all  are  weak, 
But  rank  enthusiasts.     To  this  godlike  height 
Some  souls  have  soar'd  ;  or  martyrs  ne'er  had  bled  :  605 

And  all  may  do  what  has  by  man  been  done. 
"Who,  beaten  by  these  sublunary  storms, 
Boundless,  interminable  joys  can  weigh, 
Unraptured,  unexalted,  uninflamed  ? 

What  slave  unblest,  who  from  to-morrow's  dawn  610 

.     Expects  an  empire  ?  he  forgets  his  chain, 

And,  throned  in  thought,  his  absent  sceptre  waves. 

And  what  a  sceptre  waits  us !  what  a  throne  ! 
Her  own  immense  appointments  to  compute, 
Or  comprehend  her  high  prerogatives,  615 

In  this  her  dark  minority,  how  toils, 
How  vainly  pants  the  human  soul  divine ! 
Too  great  the  bounty  seems  for  earthly  joy. 
What  heart  but  trembles  at  so  strange  a  bliss  ? 

In  spite  of  all  the  truths  the  muse  has  sung,  620 

Ne'er  to  be  prized  enough  !  enough  revolved ! 
Are  there  who  wrap  the  world  so  close  about  them, 
They  see  no  farther  than  the  clouds  ?  and  dance 
On  heedless  vanity's  fantastic  toe, 

Till,  stumbling  at  a  straw,  in  their  career,  625 

Headlong  they  plunge,  where  end  both  dance  and  song  ? 
Are  there,  Lorenzo  ?     Is  it  possible  ? 
Are  there,  on  earth  (let  me  not  call  them  men) 
WTio  lodge  a  soul  immortal  in  their  breasts ; 
Unconscious  as  the  mountain  of  its  ore,  630 

Or  rock,  of  its  inestimable  gem  ? 
When  rocks  shall  melt,  and  mountains  vanish,  these 
Shall  know  their  treasure,  treasure  then  no  more. 

614.  Appointments :  Things  appointed  to  her,  or  designed  for  her. 


2Y8  THE    COMPLAINT. 


PROOFS    OF    IMMORTALITY. 


Are  there  (still  inore  amazing  !)  who  resist 
The  rising  thought?  who  smother,  in  its  birth,  6.15 

The  glorious  truth  ?  who  struggle  to  be  brutes  ? 
Who  through  this  bosom-barrier  burst  their  way, 
And,  with  reversed  ambition,  strive  to  sink  ? 
Who  labour  downwards  through  th'  opposing  pow'rs 
Of  instinct,  reason,  and  the  world  against  them,  640 

To  dismal  hopes,  and  shelter  in  the  shock 
Of  endless  night  ?  night  darker  than  the  grave's ! 
Who  fight  the  proofs  of  immortality  ? 
With  horrid  zeal,  and  execrable  arts, 

Work  all  their  engines,  level  their  black  fires,  645 

To  blot  from  man  this  attribute  divine, 
(Than  vital  blood  far  dearer  to  the  wise) 
Blasphemers,  and  rank  atheists  to  themselves  ! 

To  contradict  them,  see  all  nature  rise  ! 
What  object,  what  event,  the  moon  beneath,  650 

But  argues,  or  endears,  an  after  scene  ? 
To  reason  proves,  or  weds  it  to  desire  ? 
All  things  proclaim  it  needful ;  some  advance 
One  precious  step  beyond,  and  prove  it  sure. 
A  thousand  arguments  swarm  round  my  pen,  656 

From  heav'n,  and  earth,  and  man.     Indulge  a  few, 
By  nature,  as  her  common  habit,  worn ; 
So  pressing  Providence  a  truth  to  tench, 
Which  truth  untaught,  all  other  truths  were  vain. 

THOU  !  whose  all  providential  eye  surveys,  600 

Whose  hand  directs,  whose  Spirit  fills  and  warms 
Creation,  and  holds  empire  far  beyond  ! 
Eternity's  Inhabitant  august ! 
Of  two  eternities  amazing  Lord  ! 

One  past,  ere  man's  or  angel's  had  begun  ;  665 

Aid !  while  I  rescue  from  the  foe's  assault 

659.   Which  truth  (being)  untaught,  &c 


mgut  rr.  270 

Th\  glorious  immortality  in  man  : 
A  theme  for  ever,  and  for  all  of  weight, 
Of  moment  infinite  !  but  relish'd  most 

By  those  who  love  thee  most,  who  most  adore.  »JT0 

.are.  thy  daughter,  ever-changing  birth 

thee  the  great  Immutable,  to  man 
Speaks  v.  his  oracle  supreme  : 

And  he  who  most  consults  her.  is  most  wise. 
Lor«r:.  675 

And  come  back  all-immortal,  all-divine  ; 
Look  nature  thi  a  all ; 

All  char..  th.     Day  follows  nijhr :  and:.. 

He      ing  id  set,  and  rise; 

See  the  summer  gay,  G  B  0 

With  her  green  chaplet,  and  ambrosial  flow'rs, 
Droops  into  pallid  autumn  :  win:::  grey, 
He::  :.d  turbulent  with  storm, 

Blows  autumn  and  his  golden  fruits  aw 

Then  melts  i:  a  -yring.  with  breath  685 

Favonian,  from  warm  chambers  of  the  s 
Recalls  the  Gist     -  .^s ; 

As  ::.  a  v  heel,  all  -  -    u<L 

Emblems  of  man.  who  :  expires. 

With  this  minute  distinction,  emblems  just,  690 

:  are  revolves,  but  man  a:I  both 

is  a  hue ; 

671.  Birth:  Product.     Th-  i  icnt  for   immortality  here  intro 

-•.s  in  the  perpetuity  of  matter,  notwithstanding  all 
it  undergoes. 

673.   Oracle  supreme :  This  is  not  correct.     Revelation  is  superior:  con- 
veys more  light,  incomparably,  than  Xature  upon  the  question  of  immor- 
"  Our  Saviour.  Jesus  Christ,  hath  abolished  death,  and  brought  life 
and  immortality  to  light  through  the  gospel ;' — 2  Tim.  1  :  10. 

An  allusion  to  a  celebrated  seat  of  the  oracle  of  Apollo,  la 
Greece. 

;nian  :   The   pleasant  western  breeze,  sometimes  called 
t,  and  which  served  in  Italy  to  break  up  the  rigors  of  winter, 
.mer. 


280  THE    COMPLAINT. 

That  gravitates,  this  soars.     Th'  aspiring  soul, 

Ardent  and  tremulous,  like  flame,  ascends ; 

Zeal,  and  humility,  her  wings  to  heav'n.  695 

The  world  of  matter,  with  its  various  forms, 

All  dies  into  new  life.     Life  born  from  death 

Rolls  the  vast  mass,  and  shall  for  ever  roll. 

No  single  atom,  once  in  being,  lost, 

With  change  of  counsel  charges  the  Most  High.  700 

What  hence  infers  Lorenzo  ?     Can  it  be  ? 
Matter  immortal  ?     And  shall  spirit  die  ? 

697.  Life  born  from  death :  Life  succeeding  death  (and  as  if  proceeding 
from  it) . 

702.  Matter  immortal  ?  And  shall  spirit  die  ?  A  full  discussion  of  this  point 
may  be  found  in  Brown's  Philosophy  of  the  Mind,  vol.  iii.  Lect.  96-7-S. 
Among  other  things  he  says: — When  the  body  seems  to  us  to  perish  we 
know  that  it  does  not  truly  perish :  that  everything  that  existed  in  the  decaying 
frame  continues  to  exist  entire  as  it  existed  before ;  and  that  the  only  change 
which  takes  place  is  a  change  of  apposition  or  proximity.  From  the  first 
moment  at  which  the  earth  arose  there  is  not  the  slightest  reason  to  think 
that  a  single  atom  has  perished.  All  that  was  is ;  and  if  nothing  has  perish- 
ed in  the  material  universe ;  if  even  in  that  bodily  dissolution,  which  alone 
gave  occasion  to  the  belief  of  our  mortality  as  sentient  beings,  there  is  not 
the  loss  of  the  most  inconsiderable  particle  of  the  dissolving  frame,  the  argu- 
ment from  analogy,  far  from  leading  us  to  suppose  the  destruction  of  that 
spiritual  being  which  animated  the  frame,  would  lead  us  to  conclude  that  it, 
too,  exists  as  it  before  existed,  and  that  it  has  only  changed  its  lelation  to 
the  particles  of  our  material  organs  as  these  particles  still  subsisting  have 
changed  the  relations  which  they  mutually  bore. 

The  continued  subsistence  of  everything  corporeal  cannot  be  regarded  as 
indicative  of  the  annihilation  of  the  other  substance;  but  must,  on  the  con- 
trary, be  regarded  as  a  presumption  in  favor  of  the  continued  subsistence  of 
the  mind,  when  there  is  nothing  around  it  which  has  perished,  and  nothing 
even  which  has  perished  in  the  whole  material  universe  since  the  universe 
itself  was  called  into  being.  The  principle  of  thought  (or  the  mind),  what- 
ever it  may  be,  is  not  divisible  into  parts ;  and  hence,  though  it  may  be  an- 
nihilated, as  everything  which  exists  may  be  annihilated  by  the  will  of  Him 
who  can  destroy  as  He  could  create,  it  does  not  admit  of  that  decay  of  which 
the  body  admits — a  decay  that  is  relative  to  the  frame  only,  not  to  the  ele- 
ments that  compose  it.  Mind,  indeed,  like  matter,  is  capable  of  existing  iu 
various  states,  but  a  change  of  state  is  not  destructive  in  one  more  than  in 
the  other.  It  is  as  entire  in  all  its  seeming  changes  as  matter  in  all  its 
seeming  changes. 


N'lQHX    VI.  281 

Above  the  nobler,  Bhall  less  noble  rise  ? 

Shall  man  alone,  for  whom  all  eke  revives, 

No  resurrection  know  I     Shall  man  alone,  705 

Imperial  man !  be  sown  in  barren  ground, 

Less  privileged  than  grain,  on  which  he  feeds  ? 

Is  mau,  in  whom  alone  is  pow'r  to  prize 

The  bliss  of  being,  or  with  previous  pain  " 

Deplore  its  period,  by  the  spleen  of  fate,  710 

Severely  doom'd  death's  .-ingle  unredeem'd? 

If  nature's  revolution  speaks  aloud, 
In  her  gradation,  hear  her  louder  still. 
Look  nature  through,  'tis  neat  gradation  all. 
By  what  minute  degrees  her  scale  ascends  !  715 

Each  middle  nature  join'd  at  each  extreme, 
To  that  above  it  join'd,  to  that  beneath. 
Parts,  into  parts  reciprocally  shot, 
Abhor  divorce :  "What  love  of  union  reigns  ! 
Here,  dormant  matter  waits  a  call  to  life  ;  720 

Half-life,  half-death,  join  there  :  here,  life  and  sense  ; 
There,  sense  from  reason  steals  a  ghmm'ring  ray  ; 
Reason  shines  out  in  man.     But  how  preserved 
The  chain  unbroken  upward,  to  the  realms 
Of  incorporeal  life  ?  those  realms  of  bliss  725 

"Where  death  has  no  dominion  ?     Grant  a  make 
Half  mortal,  half  immortal ;  earthy,  part, 
And  part  ethereal ;  grant  the  soul  of  man 
Eternal ;  or  in  man  the  series  ends. 

Wide  yawns  the  gap  ;  connection  is  no  more  :  730 

Check'd  reason  halts ;  her  next  step  wants  support ; 
Striving  to  climb,  she  tumbles  from  her  scheme ; 
A  scheme  analogy  pronounced  so  true : 

710.  Period:  Termination. 

711.  Death's   single   unredeein'd :    The  only   object   not   redeemed   from 
death  :  not  restored  to  life. 

713.  In  her  gradation,  &c. :  A  second  argument  for  man's  immortality  is 
here  drawn  from  the  successive  grades  of  animated  being. 


282  THE    COMPLAINT. 

Analogy,  man's  surest  guide  below. 

Thus  far,  all  nature  calls  on  thy  belief.  735 

And  will  Lorenzo,  careless  of  the  call, 
False  attestation  on  all  nature  charge, 
Rather  than  violate  his  league  with  death  ? 
Renounce  his  reason,  rather  than  renounce 
The  dust  beloved,  and  run  the  risk  of  heav'n  ?  74u 

0  what  indignity  to  deathless  souls  ! 
What  treason  to  the  majesty  of  man  ! 
Of  man  immortal !     Hear  the  lofty  style  : 
'  If  so  decreed,  th'  Almighty  will  be  done, 
Let  earth  dissolve,  yon  pond'rous  orbs  descend,  745 

And  grind  us  into  dust.     The  soul  is  safe  ; 
The  man  emerges  ;  mounts  above  the  wreck, 
As  tow'ring  flame  from  nature's  fun'ral  pyre  : 

734.  Surest  girde  beloiv :  That  is:  the  surest  guide,  revelation  excepted. 
Bishop  Butler  has  immortalized  his  name  by  his  elaborate  work  on  the 
"  Analogy  of  Natural  and  Revealed  Religion, ?;  from  which  some  valuable 
quotations  might  be  made  to  illustrate  and  confirm  the  arguments  of  our 
author.  As  this  work  appeared  in  1736,  it  is  not  improbable  that  Dr.  Young 
had  enjoyed  the  benefit  of  a  perusal.  The  first  chapter  is  devoted  to  the 
subject  of  a  future  life,  the  proofs  being  drawn  from  analogy,  that  is,  from 
resemblance  in  things  which  are  known  to  things  which  are  unknown.  It 
is  a  course  of  reasoning  from  the  relations  which  things  known  bear  to 
things  unknown.  It  is  "  arguing  from  what  is  acknowledged  to  what  is 
disputed;  from  things  known  to  other  things  which  resemble  them;  from 
that  part  of  the  divine  establishment  which  is  exposed  to  our  view  to  that 
more  important  one  which  lies  beyond  it — a  method  by  which  Sir  Isaac 
Newton  unfolded  the  system  of  Nature."'  For  the  sake  of  those  who  may 
not  have  a  copy  of  this  standard  work,  it  may  be  useful  to  communicate  the 
outlines  of  the  argument  pursued  by  Bishop  Butler  on  this  single  topic  of  a 
future  life.     This  will  be  given  at  the  close  of  Night  VI. 

748.  Nature's  furfral  pyre:  An  allusion  to  the  funeral  pile  on  which 
among  the  ancients  the  dead  body  was  burned.  It  was  built  of  split  wood 
that  readily  burns,  and  was  graduated  as  to  height  by  the  rank  and  wealth  ol 
the  deceased.  The  corpse,  being  laid  upon  it,  was  sprinkled  with  spices  or 
anointed  with  oil.  The  wood  is  kindled  with  a  torch  by  some  near  rela- 
tive. It  was  usual,  with  the  body  of  the  deceased  to  consume  articles  of 
rlothing  or  weapons  of  war  that  had  been  owned  by  him ;  also  any  offerings 
presented  in  honor  of  him      When  all  had  been  consumed,  wine  was  poured 


NIGHT    VI.  283 

O'er  devastation  as  a  gainer  smiles  ; 

His  charter,  his  inviolable  rights,  750 

TTell  pie  ni  thunder's  impotence, 

1        h's  pointless  darts,  and  hell's  defeated  storms.' 

But  these  chimeras  touch  thee  not  Lorenzo ! 
The  glories  of  the  -world  thy  sev'nfold  shield. 
Other  ambition  than  of  crowns  in  air, 
And  superlunary  . 

Thy  bosom  warm.     I'll  cool  it,  if  I  can  : 
And  turn  those  glories  that  enchant,  against  thee. 
What  ::  life,  proclaims  the  next. 

If  wise,  the  cause  that  wounds  thee  is  thy  cure.  760 

WONDERS    OF    HUMAN    AET,    GENTCS,    AND    POWER. 

Come,  my  ambitious  !  let  us  mount  together, 
(To  mount  Lorenzo  never  can  refr 
An  i  fi  om  the  clouds,  where  pride  delights  to  dwell, 

on  the  smoking  remains  to  extinguish  them ;  the  bones  were  collected,  and 
together  with  some  of  the  ashes  and  perfumes,  were  placed  in  an  urn  of 
metal,  clay,  or  stone.  The  urn  was  then  deposited  in  the  earth  or  in  a 
tomb. 

The  most  remarkable  funeral  pyre  that  occurs  to  us  in  classical  literature, 
is  the  celebrated  one  which  the  Queen  of  Carthage  directed  to  be  made 
ostensibly  for  consuming  the  memorials  of  her  faithless  lover  -'Eneas :  which 
however  she  first  ascended  herself,  and  committing  suicide,  was  consumed 
with  all  that  reminded  her  of  the  now  hated  Trojan  leader. 
regma,  pyra  pecetrali  in  sede  sub  auras 

r.'.i,  tedis  atqne  ilice  secta, 
".'litque  locar.  -iecoronat 

:  -a :  super,  exuvias,  ensemqne  relictnm, 
-  toro  locat,  b 
Stent  arat  circum ;"  <k<\—  3,66a 

753-56.  These  lines  are  in  the  style  of  iron}-,  and  are  to  be  understood  in 
a  sense  contrary  to  what  is  literally  expressed.  The  chimera  was  an  oddly 
constructed  animal  of  ancient  classical  fable,  too  monstrous  to  be  conceived 
as  ever  having  had  a  real  existence :  and  hence  the  r.ame  has  come  to  be 
used  to  desi_-  ere  creature  of  the  imagination,  having  no  existence 

except  in  thought,  and  too  absurd  to  be  regarded  as  a  re:. 

"JOG    Superlunary  feticitiet :  Felicities  above  the  moon,  heavenly. 


IHE    COMPLAINT. 

Look  down  on  earth. — What  seest  thou '    Wondrous  things  ! 

Terrestrial  wonders,  that  eclipse  the  skies.  765 

What  lengths  of  labour'd  lands  !  what  loaded  seas ! 

Loaded  by  man,  for  pleasure,  wealth,  or  war ! 

Seas,  winds,  and  planets,  into  service  brought, 

His  art  acknowledge,  and  promote  his  ends. 

Nor  can  th'  eternal  rocks  his  will  withstand.  770 

What  levell'd  mountains  !  and  what  lifted  vales  ! 

O'er  vales  and  mountains  sumptuous  cities  swell, 

And  gild  our  landscape  with  their  glitt'ring  spires. 

Some  'mid  the  wond'ring  waves  majestic  rise ; 

And  Neptune  holds  a  mirror  to  their  charms.  775 

Far  greater  still !  (what  cannot  mortal  might  ?) 

See  wide  dominions  ravish'd  from  the  deep  ! 

774.   Some :  Namely,  Venice.     Says  Byron — 

"  I  saw  from  out  the  wave  a  structure  rise 
As  from  the  stroke  of  the  enchanter's  wand : 
A  thousand  years  their  cloudy  wings  expand 
Around  me,  and  a  dying  glory  smiles 
O'er  the  far  times,  when  many  a  subject  land 
Looked  to  the  wing'd  lion's  marble  piles, 
Where  Venice  sat  in  state,  throned  on  her  hundred  isles." 

Rogers  more  particularly  describes  the  position  of  this  city : — 

"  There  is  a  glorious  city  in  the  sea. 
The  sea  is  in  the  broad,  the  narrow  streets, 
Ebbing  and  flowing;  and  the  salt  sea-weed 
Clings  to  the  marble  of  her  palaces. 
No  track  of  men,  no  footsteps  to  and  fro, 
Lead  to  her  gates.    The  path  lies  o'er  the  sea 
Invisible ;  and  from  the  land  we  went, 
As  to  a  coating  city — steering  in, 
And  gliding  up  her  streets  as  in  a  dream, 
So  smoothly,  silently — by  many  a  domo 
Mosque-like,  and  many  a  stately  portico, 
The  statues  ranged  along  an  azure  sky ; 
By  many  a  pile  in  more  than  Eastern  splendour, 
Of  old  the  residence  of  merchant  kings." 

777.  Ravis/i'd  from  the  deep :  Holland  may  be  taken  as  an  illustration, 
where,  by  means  of  embankments,  or  dikes,  the  ocean  has  been  shut  out, 
and  large  tracts  have  thus  been  rendered  habitable.  The  shores  (says 
Goodrich)  are  remarkably  low  and  flat,  and  a  great  part  of  the  country 
would  be  laid  under  water  by  the  tides  were  it  not  for  the  enormous  dikes 


NIGHT    VI.  28o 

The  narrow'd  deep  with  indignation  foams. 

Or  southward  turn  ;  to  delicate  and  grand, 

The  finer  arts  there  ripen  in  the  sun.  780 

How  the  tall  temples,  as  to  meet  their  gods, 

Ascend  the  skies  !  the  proud  triumphal  arch 

Shows  us  half  heav'n  beneath  its  ample  bend. 

High  through  mid  air,  here  streams  are  taught  to  flow; 

erected  along  the  coast.  These  dikes  employ  annually  more  men  than  all 
the  corn  of  the  province  of  Holland  can  maintain.  They  are  mostly  thirty 
feet  in  height  and  seventy  broad  at  bottom.  They  are  built  of  clay,  faced 
on  the  land  side  with  wood  and  stone,  and  toward  the  sea  with  mats  of 
rushes  and  sea-weed. 

781-4.  Tall  temples,  &c.  :  Those  of  Italy,  and  of  Rome  more  particularly 
St.  Peter's  church  is  one  of  the  architectural  wonders  of  the  world,  exciting 
in  the  beholder  exquisite  emotions  of  sublimity  and  beauty.  Of  it,  Byron 
has  thus  written, 

1;  But  thou,  of  temples  old,  or  altars  new, 

Standest  alone — with  nothing  like  to  thee — 

Worthiest  of  God,  the  holy  and  the  true. 

Since  Zion's  desolation,  when  that  He 

Forsook  his  former  city,  what  could  be, 

Of  earthly  structures  in  his  honor  piled, 

Of  a  snblimer  aspect?    Majesty, 

Power,  glory,  strength,  and  beauty,  all  are  aisled 

In  this  eternal  ark  of  worship  undefiled." 

For  the  remainder  of  his  beautiful  description  see  Childe  Harold,  Canto  IV. 

782.  Triumphal  arch :  An  immense  structure  in  honor  of  some  victory  or 
conqueror,  sometimes  a  single  arch,  decorated  with  a  statue  and  military 
spoils;  sometimes  arches  were  constructed  with  two  or  three  passages,  serv- 
ing as  gates.  The  principal  arches  of  antiquity  were  those  erected  in  honor 
of  Augustus,  Trajan,  Septimius  Severus,  and  Constantine,  some  of  which 
are  still  to  be  seen  and  in  a  good  state  of  preservation. 

7S-1.  High  through  midair,  &c.  :  Dr.  W.  Fisk,  in  his  Travels,  says,  another 
class  of  ruins  in  and  about  Rome  are  the  aqueducts.  These,  among  the 
ancient  Romans,  were  numerous  and  splendid ;  and  I  scarcely  saw  anything 
more  picturesque  and  grand  than  the  remaining  arches  of  these  stupendous 
water-courses,  stretching  across  the  Campagna  from  various  directions,  some 
of  them,  by  modern  repairs,  still  rolling  their  refreshing  streams  into  the 
eternal  city.  These  aqueducts  are  led  from  the  distance  of  twenty  or  thirty 
miles,  and  used  to  convey  into  the  ancient  city  five  hundred  thousand  hogs- 
heads of  water  daily,  although  at  present  only  about  one  fifth  of  that  amount 
is  brought  into  the  city.     The  Aqva  Paulina  is  from  Trajan's  aqueduct,  and 


286  THE    COMPLAINT. 

Whole  rivers,  there,  laid  by  in  basons,  sleep.  785 

Here,  plains  turn  oceans  ;  there,  vast  oceans  join 
Thro'  kingdoms  channel'd  deep  from  shore  to  shore ; 
And  changed  creation  takes  its  face  from  man. 
Beats  thy  brave  breast  for  formidable  scenes, 
Where  fame  and  empire  wait  upon  the  sword  ?  790 

See  fields  in  blood  ;  hear  naval  thunders  rise  ; 
Britannia's  voice !  that  awes  the  world  to  peace. 
How  yon  enormous  mole  projecting  breaks 
The  mid-sea  furious  waves  !  their  roar  amidst, 
Out-speaks  the  Deity,  and  says,  '0  main!  795 

Thus  far,  nor  farther  :  new  restraints  obey.' 
Earth's  disembowel'd  !  measured  are  the  skies  ! 
Stars  are  detected  in  their  deep  recess ! 
Creation  widens  !  vanquish'd  nature  yields ! 
Her  secrets  are  extorted  !   Art  prevails  !  800 

What  monument  of  genius,  spirit,  pow'r ! 
And  now,  Lorenzo,  raptured  at  this  scene, 

extends  thirty  miles,  and  is  divided  into  two  branches,  one  of  which  sup- 
plies the  Mount  Janiculum  and  empties  itself  principally,  in  copious  tor- 
rents, under  a  splendid  Ionic  colonnade  of  red  granite  into  a  vast  marble 
basin.  There  is  water  enough  poured  out  here  to  carry  several  mills.  The 
other  branch  goes  to  the  Vatican  and  expends  itself  in  the  magnificent  piazza 
of  St.  Peter's,  in  two  fountains,  which  throw  up  the  water  in  foaming 
columns  many  feet  into  the  air,  whence  it  comes  down  in  copious  showers. 
The  main  body  of  the  water  falls  into  magnificent  basins  of  oriental  granite, 
fifty  feet  in  circumference. 

We  read  that  the  waters  of  the  river  Anio  were  conducted  to  Rome  in  two 
channels,  one  forty-three,  the  other  sixty-three  miles  in  length,  of  the  latter 
of  which  more  than  six  miles  formed  a  continuous  series  of  arches,  many  of 
which  were  upwards  of  one  hundred  feet  high.  And  there  are  remains  of 
Roman  aqueducts  in  other  parts  of  Europe  which  must  have  been  origin- 
ally more  vast  and  magnificent  than  those  we  have  already  mentioned. 
There  are  also  aqueducts  in  modern  times,  particularly  in  France,  which 
equal  those  of  the  ancients.  We  have  no  space  for  other  illustrations  of  the 
wonders  of  art,  to  which  our  author  alludes. 

797.  DisembowePd:  That  is,  by  the  miner;  while  the  skies  are  measured 
3>y  the  astronomer.     Young  thus  delights  to  bring  together  remarkable  con 
frasts. 


NIGHT    VI.  28"] 

Whose  glories  lender  heav'n  superfluous  !  say, 

Whose  footsteps  these  I — Immortals  have  been  here. 

Could  less  than  souls  immortal  this  have  done  ?  805 

Earth's  eover'd  o'er  with  proofs  of  souls  immortal ; 

And  proofs  of  immortality  forgot. 

To  flatter  thy  grand  foible,  I  confess, 
These  are  ambition's  works ;  and  these  are  great ; 
But  this  the  least  immortal  souls  can  do  :  810 

Transcend  them  all. — But  what  can  these  transcend  ? 
Dost  ask  me,  what  ? — One  sigh  for  the  distrest. 
What  then  for  infidels  ? — A  deeper  sigh  ! 
'Tis  moral  grandeur  makes  the  mighty  man  : 
How  little  they,  who  think  aught  great  below!  815 

All  our  ambitions  death  defeats  but  one ; 

803.  Render  heav'n  superfluous:  Another  example  of  irony. 

805.  An  elegant  argument  is  here  drawn  in  favour  of  the  soul's  immor- 
tality from  the  previous  sketch  of  what  the  human  mind  has  originated  in 
the  department  of  industry,  genius,  and  art. 

These  glorious  footsteps  (says  Dr.  Thomas  Brown)  are  indeed  the  foot- 
steps of  immortals!  Yet  it  is  not  the  mere  splendour  of  the  works  them- 
selves, on  which  this  argument  insists  so  much,  that  seems  directly  to  indi- 
cate the  immortality  of  their  authors.  j\I an  might  be  mortal  and  yet  per- 
form all  these  wonders,  or  wonders  still  more  illustrious.  It  is  not  by  con- 
sidering the  relation  of  the  mind  to  the  monuments  of  its  art  as  too  excellent 
to  be  the  work  of  a  perishable  being;  but  by  considering  the  relations  of  a 
mind  capable  of  these,  to  the  being  who  has  endowed  it  with  such  capaci- 
ties, and  who  is  able  to  perpetuate  or  enlarge  the  capacities  which  he  has 
given,  that  we  discover  in  the  excellence  which  we  admire  not  a  proof  indeed 
but  a  presumption  of  immortality;  a  presumption  at  least  which  is  far  from 
leading  us  to  infer  any  peculiar  intention  in  the  Preserver  of  the  body  to 
annihilate  the  mind. 

This  argument  is  expanded  in  his  Philosophy  of  the  Mind,  vol.  iii.  517-8 

810.  The  least  immortal,  &c.  :  The  feeblest  immortal  souls  can  do  this 
thing:  namely,  transcend  those  works  of  art.  The  question  then  is  asked, 
what  can  transcend  those  (works)  ?  To  which  it  is  answered  (812),  sympa- 
thy for  the  distressed;  and  (813),  a  deeper  pity  for  infidels.  Such  emotions 
indicate  more  true  greatness,  discover  the  operations  of  a  higher  nature,  than 
does  even  the  powerful  intelligence  which  shines  in  the  grandeurs,  and  utili- 
ties, and  beauties  of  art. 

816.    Our  ambitions  :  Our  objects  of  ambition. 


i'88 


THE    COMPLAINT. 


And  that  it  crowns. — Here  cease  we :  but,  ere  long 
More  powerful  proof  shall  take  the  field  against  thee, 
Stronger  than  death,  and  smiling  at  the  tomb. 


BISHOP  BUTLER'S  ARGUMENT  FROM  ANALOGY  FOR  A 
FUTURE   STATE. 

In  the  note  on  (734)  we  promised  an  outline  of  the  argument  from  ana- 
logij  which  Bishop  Butler  has  constructed :  we  now  give  it  as  it  is  presented 
in  Bishop  Wilson's  analysis. 

From  considering  the  analogy  of  nature  it  will  appear  that  there  is  no- 
thing improbable  in  what  religion  teaches,  that  we  are  to  exist  in  another 
life  after  death.  There  is,  indeed,  a  confused  suspicion  that  in  the  great 
shock  of  the  unknown  event,  death,  our  living  powers  will  be  destroyed. 
The  sensible  proof  of  our  being  possessed  of  these  powers  is  removed. 
Death  is  terrible  to  us.  Nature  shrinks  from  it.  Yet,  when  we  come 
calmly  to  consider  these  apprehensions,  we  shall  find  them  to  be  ground- 
less. 

1.  For  it  is  clearly  a  general  law  of  nature,  that  the  same  creatures  should 
exist  here  in  very  different  degrees  of  life  and  perception.  We  see  instances 
of  this  law  in  the  surprising  change  of  worms  into  flies,  and  in  birds  and 
insects  bursting  their  shell,  and  entering  into  a  new  world  furnished  with  new 
accommodations  for  them.  The  states  also  in  which  we  ourselves  existed 
formerly  in  the  womb,  and  in  the  years  of  infancy,  are  widely  different  from 
the  state  of  mature  age.  Nothing  can  be  imagined  more  different.  There- 
fore, that  we  are  to  exist,  hereafter,  in  a  state  as  different  from  our  pre- 
sent, as  this  is  from  our  former  one,  is  only  according  to  the  analogy  of 
nature. 

2.  There  is  a  probability,  in  every  case,  that  all  things  will  continue  as 
we  now  find  them  in  all  respects,  except  those  in  which  we  have  some  posi- 
tive reason  to  think  they  will  be  altered.  This  is  a  general  law.  Nature 
goes  on  as  it  is.  This  seems  our  only  reason  for  believing  that  the  course 
of  the  world  will  continue  to-morrow  as  it  is  to-day,  and  as  it  has  done,  so 
far  as  history  and  experience  can  carry  us  back.  If  then  our  living  powers 
do  not  continue  after  death,  there  must  be  some  positive  reason  for  this, 
cither  in  death  itself  or  in  the  analogy  of  nature. 

But  there  is  no  positive  reason  in  death  itself,  for  we  know  not  what  it  is: 
we  only  know  some  of  its  effects,  such  as  the  dissolution  of  flesh,  skin,  and 
bones  ;  and  these  effects  in  no  wise  appear  to  imply  the  destruction  of  the 
living  agent.     Sleep,  or  a  swoon,  shows  us  that  the  living  powers  mav  exist 


NIGHT    VI.  289 

when  there  is  no  present  capacity  of  exercising  them.     In  fact  we  know 
not  upon  what  the  existence  of  our  living  powers  depends. 

Nor  does  the  analogy  of  nature  furnish  any  positive  reason  to  think  that 
death  is  our  destruction.  For  we  have  no  faculties  wherewith  to  trace  any- 
thing beyond,  or  through,  death,  to  see  what  becomes  of  those  powers. 
Men  were  possessed  of  these  powers  up  to  the  period  to  which  we  have 
faculties  for  tracing  them:  it  is  probable,  therefore,  that  they  retain  them 
afterwards. 

3.  For  our  gross  bodies  are  not  ourselves,  and  therefore  the  destruction 
of  them  may  be  no  destruction  of  ourselves.  We  see  that  men  may  lose 
their  limbs,  their  organs  of  sense,  and  even  the  greatest  part  of  their  bodies, 
and  yet  remain  the  same  living  agents  as  before.  Our  organized  bodies  are 
merely  quantities  of  matter  which  may  be  alienated,  and  actually  are  in  a 
daily  course  of  succession  and  change,  whilst  we  remain  the  same  living, 
permanent  beings  notwithstanding.  As,  therefore,  ive  have  already  several 
times  over  lost  a  great  part  of  our  body,  or  perhaps  the  whole  of  it,  accord- 
ing to  certain  common  established  laws  of  nature  ;  so  when  we  shall  lose  as 
great  a  part,  or  the  whole,  by  another  common  established  law  of  nature, 
death,  why  may  we  not  also  remain  the  same.  That  the  alienation  has 
been  gradual  in  one  case,  and  will  be  more  at  once  in  the  other,  proves  no- 
thing to  the  contrary. 

4.  But,  more  particularly,  our  bodies  are  clearly  only  organs  and  instru- 
ments of  perception  and  motion.  Our  use  of  common  optical  instruments 
shows  that  we  see  with  our  eyes  in  the  same  sense  as  we  see  with  glasses. 
These  glasses,  which  are  no  part  of  our  body,  convey  objects  towards  the 
perceiving  power,  just  as  our  bodily  organs  do.  And  if  we  see  with  our 
eyes  only  in  this  manner,  the  like  may  be  concluded  as  t«  all  our  other 
senses.  So  with  regard  to  the  power  of  moving :  upon  the  destruction  of  a 
limb,  the  active  power  remains  ;  and  we  can  walk  by  the  help  of  an  artifi- 
cial leg.  just  as  we  can  make  use  of  a  pole  to  reach  things  beyond  the  length 
of  the  natural  arm.  We  may  therefore  have  no  more  relation  to  our  exter- 
nal bodily  organs,  than  we  have  to  a  microscope  or  a  staff,  or  any  other 
foreign  matter,  which  we  use  as  instruments  of  perception  or  motion ;  and 
the  dissolution  of  these  organs  by  death  may  be  no  destruction  of  the  living 
agent. 

5.  But,  further,  our  powers  of  reflection  do  not,  even  now,  depend  on 
our  gross  body  in  the  same  manner  as  perception  by  the  organs  of  sense  does. 
In  our  present  condition,  the  organs  of  sense  are  indeed  necessary  for  con- 
veying in  ideas  to  our  reflecting  powers,  as  carriages,  levers,  and  scaffolds 
are  in  architecture ;  but  when  these  ideas  are  once  brought  in.  and  stored  up 
in  the  mind,  we  are  capable  of  pleasure  and  pain  by  reflection,  without  any 
further  assistance  from  our  senses.  Mortal  diseases  often  do  not  at  all  affect 
our  intellectual  powers,  nor  even  suspend  them.  We  see  persons  under  those 
diseases,  the   moment  before   death,  discover  apprehension,  memory,  rea- 

13 


290  THE    COMPLAINT. 

son,  all  entire  ;  the  utmost  force  of  affection,  and  the  highest  mental  enjoy- 
ments and  sufferings.  Why  then  should  a  disease,  when  come  to  a  certain 
degree,  be  thought  to  destroy  those  powers  which  do  not  depend  on  the 
bodily  senses,  and  which  were  not  affected  by  that  disease  quite  up  to  that 
degree  ? 


EXAMINATION  OF  THE  ASTRONOMICAL  ARGUMENT  OF 
DR.  YOUNG  FOR  MAN'S  IMMORTALITY. 

Young  was  acquainted  not  only  with  the  grand  material  imagery  sup- 
plied by  the  stars,  but  with  the  moral  truths  and  gleams  of  discovery  which 
they  furnish.  They  seem  to  him  a  mighty  burnished  mirror  of  the  destiny 
of  man.  As  he  bows  down  his  head  under  the  solemn  midnight,  and  listens, 
there  comes  to  him,  not  a  vague  tumult  of  conflicting  sound,  but  one  still, 
small  voice,  speaking  of  God,  heaven,  and  immortal  life.  If,  asks  Wilson, 
God  designed  this  earth  for  at  once  the  cradle  and  the  grave  of  man,  why 
did  he  hang  it  among  the  stars  ?  Young  takes  up  precisely  the  same  point 
of  view.  The  stars  are  generally  thought  immortal ;  the  earth  is  one  of 
them ;  to  them  it  shines  as  they  to  us.  Man  is  the  sovereign  of  the  earth, 
and  is  therein  greater  than  it :  it  follows  that  he  too  is  immortal.  This 
argument  is  not  a  severely  logical  one,  and  it  is  imperfect  too,  for  the  stars 
are  not  immortal :  "  The  heavens  shall  pass  away."  Heavens  have  passed 
away.  Stars  on  which  the  eyes  of  old  astronomers  have  gazed  with  rapture, 
have  vanished  from  the  map  of  the  sky. 

The  stars  teach  us  this  great  truth,  indeed,  (man's  immortality,)  but  not 
as  an  inference  from  their  own  immortality,  but  because  they  prove  man's 
greatness.  Surely  the  mind  which  can  take  them  up  as  a  very  little  thing, 
which  can  watch  their  motions  so  minutely,  comprehend  so  many  of  their 
secrets,  and  prophecy  their  changes,  must  be  greater  than  they,  must  be 
cognate  to  that  Great  Spirit  who  has  created  and  who  propels  them.  To 
this  argument  for  man's  greatness,  Young  had  not  arrived.  Nay,  we  think 
that  he  often  confounds  man's  immortality  with  his  greatness.  The  two 
things  are  by  no  means  identical.  Man  might  be  immortal  without  being 
great ;  he  might  be  an  eternal  pariah  or  bondman.  But  man's  peculiar 
greatness,  as  of  one  made  in  the  image  of  God,  and  superior  by  infinity  to 
all  materialism,  secures  his  immortality,  or,  at  least,  renders  it  extremely 
likely.  It  is  only  a  high  probability,  indeed,  on  this  subject,  apart  from 
the  disclosures  of  Scripture,  that  we  can  at  present  attain. — Gilfillan. 


PREFACE 

TO 

PART  II. 
OF  THE    INFIDEL    RECLAIMED. 


As  we  are  at  war  with  the  power,  it  were  well  if  we  were  at  war  with 
the  manners,  of  France.  A  land  of  levity  is  a  land  of  guilt.  A  serious 
mind  is  the  native  soil  of  every  virtue,  and  the  single  character  that  does 
true  honour  to  mankind.  The  soul's  immortality  has  been  the  favourite 
theme  with  the  serious  of  all  ages.  Nor  is  it  strange  :  it  is  a  subject  by  far 
the  most  interesting  and  important  that  can  enter  the  mind  of  man.  Of 
highest  moment  this  subject  always  was,  and  always  will  be.  Yet  this  its 
highest  moment  seems  to  admit  of  increase,  at  this  day :  a  sort  of  occasional 
importance  is  superadded  to  the  natural  weight  of  It,  if  that  opinion  which 
is  advanced  in  the  Preface  to  the  preceding  Night  be  just.  It  is  there  sup- 
posed that  all  our  infidels,  whatever  scheme,  for  argument's  sake,  and  to 
keep  themselves  in  countenance,  they  patronise,  are  betrayed  into  their  de- 
plorable error,  by  some  doubts  of  their  immortality  at  the  bottom.  And  the 
more  I  consider  this  point,  the  more  I  am  persuaded  of  the  truth  of  that 
opinion.  Though  the  distrust  of  a  futurity  is  a  strange  error,  yet  it  is  an 
error  into  which  bad  men  may  naturally  be  distressed.  For  it  is  impossible 
to  bid  defiance  to  final  ruin,  without  some  refuge  in  imagination,  some  pre- 
sumption of  escape.     And  what  presumption  is  there?     There  are  but  two 


292  PREFACE. 

in  nature ;  but  two,  within  the  compass  of  human  thought :  and  these  are, — 
That  either  God  will  not,  or  cannot  punish.  Considering  the  divine  attri- 
butes, the  first  is  too  gross  to  be  digested  by  our  strongest  wishes.  And, 
since  omnipotence  is  as  much  a  divine  attribute  as  holiness,  that  God  cannot 
punish,  is  as  absurd  a  supposition  as  the  former.  God  certainly  can  punish, 
as  long  as  wicked  men  exist.  In  non-existence,  therefore,  is  their  only  re- 
fuge ;  and,  consequently,  non-existence  is  their  strongest  wish.  And  strong 
wishes  have  a  strange  influence  on  our  opinions  ;  they  bias  the  judgment  in 
a  manner  almost  incredible.  And  since  on  this  member  of  their  alter- 
native, there  are  some  very  small  appearances  in  their  favour,  and  none 
at  all  on  the  other,  they  catch  at  this  reed,  they  lay  hold  on  this  chimera, 
to  save  themselves  from  the  shock  and  horror  of  an  immediate  and  abso- 
lute despair. 

On  reviewing  my  subject,  by  the  light  which  this  argument,  and  others 
of  like  tendency,  threw  upon  it,  I  was  more  inclined  than  ever  to  pursue  it, 
as  it  appeared  to  me  to  strike  directly  at  the  main  root  of  all  our  infidelity. 
In  the  following  pages  it  is  accordingly  pursued  at  large;  and  some  argu- 
ments for  immortality,  new,  at  least  to  me,  are  ventured  on  in  them.  There, 
also,  the  writer  has  made  an  attempt  to  set  the  gross  absurdities  and  horrors 
of  annihilation  in  a  fuller  and  more  affecting  view,  than  is,  I  think  to  be 
met  with  elsewhere. 

The  gentlemen  for  whose  sake  this  attempt  was  chiefly  made,  profess 
great  admiration  for  the  wisdom  of  heathen  antiquity:  what  pity  'tis  they 
are  not  sincere  !  If  they  were  sincere,  how  would  it  mortify  them  to  con- 
sider with  what  contempt  and  abhorrence  their  notions  would  have  been 
received,  by  those  whom  they  so  much  admire  ?  What  degree  of  contemp*. 
and  abhorrence  would  fall  to  their  share,  may  be  conjectured  by  the  follow- 
ing matter  of  fact,  in  my  opinion,  extremely  memorable.  Of  all  their 
heathen  worthies,  Socrates,  'tis  well  known,  was  the  most  guarded,  dispas- 
sionate, and  composed :  yet  this  great  master  of  temper  was  angry ;  and 
angry  at  his  last  hour;  and  angry  with  his  friend;  and  angry  for  what  de- 
served acknowledgment ;  angry  for  a  right  and  tender  instance  of  true  friend- 
ship towards  him.  Is  not  this  surprising?  What  could  be  the  cause?  The 
cause  was  for  his  honour;  it  was  a  truly  noble,  though,  perhaps,  a  too 
punctilious  regard  for  immortality  ;  for  his  friend  asking  him,  with  such  an 
affectionate  concern  as  became  a  friend,  '  Where  he   should  deposit  his  re- 


PREFACE.  293 

mains?'  it  was  resented  by  Socrates,  as  implying  a  dishonourable  supposi- 
tion, that  he  could  be  so  mean  as  to  have  regard  for  any  thing,  even  in  him- 
self, that  was  not  immortal. 

This  fact,  well  considered,  would  make  our  infidels  withdraw  their  admi- 
ration from  Socrates ;  or  make  them  endeavour,  by  their  imitation  of  this 
illustrious  example,  to  share  his  glory :  and,  consequently,  it  would  incline 
them  to  peruse  the  following  pages  with  candour  and  impartiality;  which 
is  all  I  desire,  and  that  for  their  sakes :  for  I  am  persuaded,  that  an  un- 
prejudiced infidel  must,  necessarily,  receive  some  advantageous  impressions 
from  them. 

July  7,  1744. 


NIGHT  VII. 


BEING 
THE  SECOND  PART 

OF 

THE  INFIDEL  RECLAIMED. 

CONTAINING   THE    NATURE,    PROOF,    AND    IMPORTANCE   OF     IMMORTALITY 


Heav'n  gives  the  needful,  but  neglected,  call. 
What  day,  what  hour,  but  knocks  at  human  hearts 
To  wake  the  soul  to  sense  of  future  scenes  ? 
Deaths  stand,  like  Mercuries,  in  ev'iy  way, 
And  kindly  point  us  to  our  journey's  end. 
Pope,  who  couldst  make  immortals,  art  thou"  dead  ? 
I  give  thee  joy  :  nor  will  I  take  my  leave ; 

4.  Like  Mercuries :  Statues,  or  rather  busts,  of  Mercury,  a  Pagan  god. 
The  more  ancient  ones  are  here  intended,  which  were  simply  quadrangular 
pillars  of  stone  with  a  rudely-carved  head  surmounting  them ;  and  thess  in 
great  numbers,  were  set  up  in  the  streets  of  Athens  in  front  of  temples  and 
also  of  dwelling  houses.  The  Romans  employed  similar  stones  to  indicate 
the  boundaries  of  lands. 

6.  Pope:  Alexander  Pope,  the  distinguished  English  satirist,  and  the 
poetic  translator  of  Homer  into  English  rhyme:  a  contemporary  and  friend 
of  Young.     He  died  May  30,  J  74-1,  at  the  age  of  fifty-six 


NIGHT    VII.  295 

So  soon  to  follow.     Man  but  dives  in  death  ; 

Dives  from  the  sun,  in  fairer  day  to  rise ; 

The  grave,  his  subterranean  road  to  bliss.  10 

Yes,  infinite  indulgence  plann'd  it  so  : 

Through  various  parts  our  glorious  story  runs ; 

Time  gives  the  preface,  endless  age  unrolls 

The  volume  (ne'er  enroll'd  !)  of  human  fate. 

This  earth  and  skies  already  have  proelaim'd,  15 

The  world's  a  prophecy  of  worlds  to  come  : 
And  who,  what  God  foretells  (who  speaks  in  things 
Still  louder  than  in  words)  shall  dare  deny  ? 
If  nature's  arguments  appear  too  weak, 

Turn  a  new  leaf,  and  stronger  read  in  man.  20 

If  man  sleeps  on,  untaught  by  what  he  sees, 
Can  he  prove  infidel  to  what  he  feels  ? 
He,  whose  blind  thought  futurity  denies, 
Unconscious  bears,  Bellerophon  !  like  thee, 

8.  Dives  in  death  :  The  figure  here  employed  is  not  happily  executed  ;  lor 
in  (10)  the  grave  is  described  as  the  road  to  bliss.  The  grave,  unless 
aqueous,  would  not  be  a  good  element  to  dive  in.  The  figure  would  not 
answer  for  any  but  those  who  meet  their  death  by  falling  into  the  water. 

13.  Time  gives,  &c.  :  The  history  of  man  is  here  ingeniously  alluded  to. 

15.  Earth  and  skies,  &c.  :  Reference  is  made  to  a  part  of  Night  VI.  from 
167—190. 

16.  A  prophecy  of  worlds,  &c.  :  What  we  see  in  this  world  leads  us  to  anti- 
cipate exis  I  ence  in  other  worlds. 

20.  In  man  :  Having,  in  the  last  Night,  elucidated  the  argument  from  ex- 
ternal nature,  our  author  passes  to  consider  that  which  may  be  deduced  from 
the  human  constitution ;  from  the  feelings,  the  passions,  the  reason  of  man. 

24.  Bellerophon,  &c.  :  The  allusion  here  is  exceedingly  apt  and  beautiful,  as 
will  be  seen  from  the  relation  of  a  part  of  the  classical  fable  concerning  this 
man.  Being  endowed  with  great  personal  vigor  and  beauty,  the  wife  of 
Praetus,  king  of  Argos,  allowed  herself  to  indulge  an  unlawful  attachment  to 
him.  The  virtuous  youth,  like  Joseph  in  a  similar  case,  rejected  her  infa- 
mous advances ;  and,  like  Joseph,  was  accused  of  the  perpetration  of  the  crime 
which  he  had  refused  to  commit.  The  king  believed  the  lie,  and  sent  Belle- 
rophon to  his  wife's  father,  king  of  Lycia,  with  a  sealed  letter  containing 
instructions  to  put  the  bearer  to  death,  and  assigning  the  cause.     Bellerophon 


296  THE    COMPLAINT. 

His  own  indictment ;  he  condemns  himself:  2d 

Who  reads  his  bosom,  reads  immortal  life  ; 
Or,  Nature,  there,  imposing  on  her  sons, 
Has  written  fables  ;  man  was  made  a  lie. 

ARGUMENT    FOUNDED    ON    Man's    DISCONTENT. 

Why  discontent  for  ever  harbour'd  there  ? 
Incurable  consumption  of  our  peace  !  30 

Resolve  me,  why  the  cottager  and  king, 
He  whom  sea-sever'd  realms  obey,  and  he 
Who  steals  his  whole  dominion  from  the  waste, 
Repelling  winter  blasts  with  mud  and  straw, 
Disquieted  alike,  draw  sigh  for  sigh,  35 

In  fate  so  distant,  in  complaint  so  near  ? 

Is  it,  that  things  terrestrial  can't  content  ? 
Deep  in  rich  pasture,  will  thy  nocks  complain  ? 
Not  so  ;  but  to  their  master  is  denied 

To  share  their  sweet  serene.     Man,  ill  at  ease,  40 

In  this,  not  his  own  place,  this  foreign  field, 
TVhere  Nature  fodders  him  with  other  food 
Than  was  ordain'd  his  cravings  to  suffice, 
Poor  in  abundance,  famish'd  at  a  feast, 

Sighs  on  for  something  more,  when  most  enjoy'd.  45 

Is  Heav'n  then  kinder  to  thy  flocks  than  thee  ? 
Not  so  ;  thy  pasture  richer,  but  remote  ; 
In  part,  remote  ;  for  that  remoter  part 

was  unconscious  that  he  was  bearing  his  own  indictment ;  his  own  condemna- 
tion. 

28.  Man  was  made  a  lie:  So  made  as  to  deceive  all  our  just  expectation. 

29.  Why  discontent,  &c.  :  This  feature  of  man  argues  a  future  state  in 
which  this  feeling  shall  not  exist :  in  which  the  universal  appetite  for  some- 
thing higher  and  better  than  earth  affords  shall  meet  with  adequate  and 
appropriate  objects  for  its  gratification. 

31.  Resolve  me:  Inform  me;  free  me  from  doubt. 
40.   Serene:  Serenity:  contentment. 
45.  Enjoy'd:  is  enjoy'd. 


NIGHT    VII.  207 

bleats  from  instinct,  tho'  perhaps,  debauch'd 
Bv  sense,  his  reason  sleeps,  nor  dreams  the  cause.  50 

The  cause  how  obvious,  -when  his  reason  -wak  -  . 
His  grief  is  but  his  grandeur  in  disguise  ; 
And  discontent  is  immor 

Shall  sons  of  ether,  shall  the  blood  of  heav'n, 
Set  up  their  hopes  on  earth,  and  stable  here,  55 

With  brutal  acquiescence  in  the  mi 
Lorenzo,  no  !  they  shall  be  nobly  pain'd  : 
The  glori  _        ,  distresl    shall  sigh 

On  thrones  ;  and  thou  congratulate  the  sigh. 
Man's  misery  declares  him  born  for  Wis    :  6W 

His  anxious  heart  asserts  the  truth  I  sing, 
And  gives  the  sceptic  in  his  head  the  he. 

ARGUMENT    FROM    OCR    VARIOUS    SUSCEPTIBILITIES    AND    POWERS. 

Our  heads,  our  hearts,  our  passions,  and  our  pow'r-. 
Speak  the  same  language  ;  call  us  to  the  skies : 
Unripen'd  these  in  this  inclement  clime,  65 

Scarce  rise  above  conjecture,  and  mistai:    : 
And  for  this  land  of  trifles  ti.  vong 

Tumultuous  rise,  and  tempest  human  life  : 
What  prize  on  earth  can  pay  us  for  the  storm  \ 
Meet  c  bj  sets  for  our  passions  heav'n  ordain'd,  70 

Objects  that  challenge  all  their  fire,  and  I 
N    fault  but  in  defect :  blest  Heav'n  !  avert 
A  bounded  ardour  for  unbounded  bliss  ; 
O  for  a  bliss  unbounded  !  far  beneath 
A  soul  immortal,  is  a  mortal  joy.  15 

53.  Is  immortality :  Is  an  earnest,  or  pledge  of  it. 

63.  Our  heads,  &c.  :  The  argument  is.  that  our  various  passions  and  other 
powers  have  in  this  life  no  sufficient  objects  of  gratification. 

68.  Tempest  human  life:  Destroy  the  peace  of  human  life.  Tempest  is 
used  as  a  verb. 

72.  Xo  fault  but  in  defect:  In  the  defect  or  feebleness  of  our  desire  for 
♦hem  ;  their  only  fault  lies  in  our  bounded  ardour  (73). 


298  THE    COMPLAINT. 

Nor  are  our  pow'rs  to  perish  immature  ; 

But,  after  feeble  effort  here,  beneath 

A  brighter  sun,  and  in  a  nobler  soil, 

Transplanted  from  this  sublunary  bed, 

Shall  nourish  fair,  and  put  forth  all  their  bloom.  80 

ARGUMENT    FROM    THE    GRADUAL    AND    IMPERFECT    GROWTH    OF 
REASON. 

Reason  progressive,  instinct  is  complete  ; 
Swift  instinct  leaps  ;  slow  reason  feebly  climbs. 
Brutes  soon  their  zenith  reach  ;  their  little  all 
Flows  in  at  once  ;  in  ages  they  no  more 

Could  know,  or  do,  or  covet,  or  enjoy.  85 

Were  man  to  live  coeval  with  the  sun, 
The  patriarch  pupil  would  be  learning  still ; 
Yet,  dying,  leave  his  lesson  half  unlearn'd. 
Men  perish  in  advance,  as  if  the  sun 

Should  set  ere  noon,  in  eastern  oceans  drown'd ;  90 

If  fit,  with  dim,  illustrious  to  compare, 
The  sun's  meridian,  with  the  soul  of  man. 
To  man,  why,  step-dame  Nature  !  so  severe  ? 
Why  thrown  aside  thy  master-piece,  half  wrought, 
While  meaner  efforts  thy  last  hand  enjoy  ?  95 

Or,  if  abortively  poor  man  must  die, 

81.  Reason  progressive :  Reason  in  man  is  contrasted  with  the  instinct  of 
lower  animals.  The  fact  that  the  latter  soon  reaches  perfection  argues  that 
this  state  of  existence  is  all  which  the  lower  animals  shall  enjoy:  while  on 
the  same  principle,  the  ever-improving  hut  at  best  imperfectly  developed 
reason  of  man,  leads  us  to  infer  that  his  existence  is  not  completed  on  earth 
but  will  be  resumed  and  continued  elsewhere.  Otherwise  the  Creator 
would  seem  to  have  left  his  best  earthly  production  incomplete ;  and  to  be 
less  kind  to  man  than  to  inferior  creatures. 

87.  Patriarch  pupil :  Aged  learner. 

89.   In  advance:  Sooner  than  their  fit  lime. 

91.   With  dim  (things). 

&2    Sun's  meridian  ■  The  sun  at  mid-day. 


NIGHT    VII.  299 

Nor  reach  what  reach  he  might,  why  die  in  dread? 

Why  curst  with  foresight  ?     Wise  to  misery  ? 

Why  of  his  proud  prerogative  the  prey  ? 

Why  less  pre-eminent  in  rank  than  pain  ?  100 

His  immortality  alone  can  tell : 

Full  ample  fund  to  balance  all  amiss, 

And  turn  the  scale  in  favour  of  the  just ! 

ARGUMENT  FROM  HUMAN  HOPES. 

His  immortality  alone  can  solve 
That  darkest  of  enigmas,  human  hope —  105 

Of  all  the  darkest,  if  at  death  we  die. 
Hope,  eager  hope,  th'  assassin  of  our  joy, 
All  present  blessings  treading  under  foot, 
Is  scarce  a  milder  tyrant  than  despair. 

With  no  past  toils  content,  still  planning  new,  110 

Hope  turns  us  o'er  to  death  alone  for  ease. 
Possession,  why  more  tasteless  than  pursuit  ? 
Why  is  a  wish  far  dearer  than  a  crown  ? 
That  wish  accomplish'd,  why  the  grave  of  bliss  ? 
Because,  in  the  great  future  buried  deep,  115 

Beyond  our  plans  of  empire  and  renown, 
Lies  all  that  man  with  ardour  should  pursue  ; 
And  HE  who  made  him,  bent  him  to  the  right. 

Man's  heart  th'  Almighty  to  the  future  sets, 
By  secret  and  inviolable  springs  ;  120 

And  makes  his  hope  his  sublunary  joy. 
Man's  heart  eats  all  things,  and  is  hungry  still ; 
'  More,  more  !'  the  glutton  cries ;  for  something  new 
So  rages  appetite,  if  man  can't  mount, 

97.  Why  die  in  dread:  Another  argument  for  immortality.  If  man  is  not 
a.istined  to  another  life,  why  has  God  implanted  in  his  nature  a  dread  of 
death,  such  as  the  lower  animals  are  not  troubled  with  ? 

105.  That  darkest  of  enigmas :  Or  things  hard  to  be  explained— human 
hope:  The  expectation  of  a  future  life  implanted  in  our  very  nature-,  and 
why  ?  if  there  be  no  future  life.     This  forms  the  next  argument. 


300  THE    COMPLAINT. 

He  will  descend.     He  starves  on  the  possest.  125 

Hence,  the  world's  master,  from  ambition's  spire, 

In  Caprea  plunged ;  and  dived  beneath  the  brute. 

In  that  rank  sty  why  wallow'd  empire's  son 

Supreme  ?  Because  he  could  no  higher  fly  ; 

His  riot  was  ambition  in  despair.  180 

Old  Rome  consulted  birds  :  Lorenzo  !  thou, 
With  more  success,  the  flight  of  hope  survey  : 
Of  restless  hope,  for  ever  on  the  wing. 
High  perch'd  o'er  ev'ry  thought  that  falcon  sits, 
To  fly  at  all  that  rises  in  her  sight ;  135 

And,  never  stooping,  but  to  mount  again 
Next  moment,  she  betrays  her  aim's  mistake, 
And  owns  her  quarry  lodged  beyond  the  grave. 

ARGUMENT    FROM    THE    NATURE    AND    REWARDS    OF    VIRTUE. 

There  should  it  fail  us,  (it  must  fail  us  there, 
If  being  fails)  more  mournful  riddles  rise,  140 

And  virtue  vies  with  hope  in  mystery. 

127.  In  Caprea  plunged :  From  the  grandeur  of  the  imperial  throne 
plunged  into  the  loneliness  of  a  small  and  sequestered  island  which  com- 
mands a  fine  view  of  the  charming  bay  of  Naples.  The  dark-minded,  im- 
perious, and  profligate  Tiberius  chose  this  inviting  spot  as  his  residence 
during  the  latter  part  of  his  reign,  where,  unmolested  and  unrebuked  by  the 
public  eye,  he  might  give  unbridled  license  to  his  debaucheries  and  cruelties 
— the  report  cf  which  almost  exceeds  belief. 

131.  Consulted  birds :  As  means  of  foretelling  future  events  the  ancient 
Romans  noticed  the  chirping  or  flying  of  birds.  From  this  custom,  though 
a  foolish  one,  our  author  constructs  a  beautiful  figure.  Hope  is  represented 
as  one  of  these  birds  that  give  omen  of  the  future;  the  flight  of  hope  survey. 
The  figure  is  then  somewhat  changed.  Hope  is  now  a  falcon  (134),  a  female 
hawk,  trained  to  catch  wild  fowl  that  rise  in  her  sight.  They  are  called  her 
guarry,  the  game  she  pursues.  This  was  a  great  sport  in  Europe  some  few 
centuries  since  ;  and  continued  until  the  improvement  of  fire-arms  furnished 
a  readier  method  of  securing  the  object. 

According  to  the  figure,  borrowed  from  this  sport.  Hope  cannot  in  this 
world  find  the  objects  she  is  pursuing :  they  are  lodged  beyond  the  grave. 

141.  Virtue  vies  with  hope  in  mystery  :  If  there  be  no  future  state.  Virtue 
is.  equally  with  Hope,  an  enigma,  or  riddle;  the  motives  to  virtue  are  re- 


NIGHT    VII.  301 

Why  virtue  ?     Where  its  praise,  its  being  fled  ? 

Virtue  is  true  self-interest  pursued  : 

What  true  self-interest  of  quite-mortal  man  8 

To  close  with  all  that  makes  him  happy  here.  145 

If  vice  (as  sometimes)  is  our  friend  on  earth, 

Then  vice  is  virtue  ;  'tis  our  sov'reigu  good. 

In  self-applause  is  virtue's  golden  prize ; 

No  self-applause  attends  it  on  thy  scheme: 

Whence  self-applause  ?     From  conscience  of  the  right.        150 

And  what  is  right,  but  means  of  happiness  ? 

No  means  of  happiness  when  virtue  yields ; 

That  basis  failing,  falls  the  building  too, 

And  lays  in  ruin  ev'ry  virtuous  joy, 

moved  ;  the  obligations  to  it  are  weakened,  nay,  destroyed.  Why  virtue  7 
why  should  there  be  virtue  1  Where  its  praise,  &c.  :  If  there  be  no  future 
state  where  is  the  praise  of  virtue  fled;  where  is  its  very  existence  fled  ? 
Virtue  (according  to  the  theory  of  our  author)  is  true  self-interest  pursued ; 
it  is  the  pursuit  of  happiness.  If  man  then  be  quite  mortal,  his  happiness 
must  lie  in  the  pursuit  of  earthly  and  present  enjoyments.  But  vice  often 
makes  men  happy  here  (145-7):  hence  vice  is  virtue.  This  is  a  mystery 
(141).     It  cannot  be  explained  or  credited.     It  is  not  to  be  admitted. 

But  there  is  another  mystery :  the  chief  prize  of  virtue  is  self-applause. 
On  the  infidel  scheme,  however,  (which  confines  man's  existence  to  this 
life)  there  can  be  no  self-applause — that  which  proceeds  from  conscience  of 
the  right  (consciousness  of  doing  right),  or  from  the  conviction  that  we  are 
pursuing  the  road  of  happiness — or  using  the  means  of  happiness.  But  there 
are  no  means  of  happiness  when  virtue  yields,  or  where  virtue  is  absent,  and 
(as  the  author  maintains  (142),  and  afterwards  (247 — 250)  there  can  be  no 
virtue  except  inspired  by  the  hope  of  immortality.  Nay,  virtue,  independent 
of  a  belief  of  immortality,  is  a  crime  (709). 

Upon  this  argument  it  may  be  remarked,  that  the  author's  definition  of 
virtue  is  unsound,  as  will  be  shown  hereafter;  that  the  chain  of  reasoning 
wants  several  links  to  make  it  intelligible  to  the  common  mind ;  and  that  it 
is  illogical,  by  using  the  term  happiness  in  two  quite  different  senses — in  the 
6ense  of  present  happiness  arising  even  from  vice  (145-6),  and  again  in  the 
sense  either  of  future  happiness  growing  out  of  virtuous  conduct  in  this  life, 
or  of  such  gratifications  in  this  life  as  virtue  alone  can  produce.  If  this  dis- 
tinction be  not  observed,  and  did  not  exist  in  the  author's  mind,  how  can  we 
reconcile  the  statements  in  145-7  and  that  in  152  i 


302  THE    COMPLAINT. 

The  rigid  guardian  of  a  blameless  heart  155 

So  long  revered,  so  long  reputed  wise, 
Is  weak  ;  with  rank  knight-errantries  o'er-run. 
Why  beats  thy  bosom  with  illustrious  dreams 
Of  self-exposure,  laudable  and  great  ? 

Of  gallant  enterprise,  and  glorious  death  ?  100 

Die  for  thy  country  ? — thou  romantic  fool ! 
Seize,  seize  the  plank  thyself,  and  let  her  sink  : 
Thy  country !  what  to  thee  ? — The  Godhead,  what  ? 
(I  speak  with  awe  !)  tho'  He  should  bid  thee  bleed ; 
If,  with  thy  blood,  thy  final  hope  is  spilt,  105 

Nor  can  Omnipotence  reward  the  blow  ; 
Be  deaf;  preserve  thy  being;  disobey. 

Nor  is  it  disobedience  :  know,  Lorenzo ! 
Whate'er  th'  Almighty's  subsequent  command, 
His  first  command  is  this  : — '  Man,  love  thyself.'  1*70 

In  this  alone,  free  agents  are  not  free. 
Existence  is  the  basis,  bliss  the  prize ; 
If  virtue  costs  existence,  'tis  a  crime  ; 
Bold  violation  of  our  law  supreme, 

Black  suicide  ;  though  nations,  which  consult  1*75 

Their  gain,  at  thy  expense,  resound  applause. 

Since  virtue's  recompense  is  doubtful  here, 

153-176.  The  rigid  guardian,  &c.  :  The  argument  is  that  if  there  be  no 
future  life,  the  conscientious  guardianship  of  the  purity  of  the  heart — the 
cultivation  of  a  blameless  state  of  the  affections — is  no  more  to  be  approved 
as  wise  or  important,  but  is  to  be  classed  for  its  folly  with  the  ridiculous  ex- 
ploits of  a  Don  Quixote. 

Then  also  the  patriot  who  sacrifices  his  life  for  his  country,  and  the  Chris- 
tian martyr  who  dies  in  the  cause  of  religion  at  the  command  of  God  even 
act  an  unwarrantable  part.  They  are  bound  to  preserve  their  life  and  not 
thus  sacrifice  it.  In  so  sacrificing  it,  they  are  chargeable  with  black  suicide, 
for  God's  prior  law  was  "Man,  love  thyself."  So  that  these  highest  speci- 
mens of  supposed  virtues,  must,  on  the  scheme  of  non-futurity,  be  pro- 
nounced vicious. 

177-188.  Since  virtue's  recompense,  &c.  :  That  is,  if  there  be  no  hereafter. 
It  is  an  inexplicable  mystery  that  virtue  is  not  rewarded  here ;  also,  that  a 
man  should  be  commanded  by  his  Creator  to  be  virtuous;  and  that  he 


NIOHT    VII.  303 

If  man  dies  wholly,  well  may  Ave  demand, 

Why  is  man  suffered  to  be  good  in  vain  ? 

"Why  to  be  good  in  vain,  is  man  enjoin  d  ?  180 

Why  to  be  good  in  vain,  is  man  betray'd  ? 

Bctrav'd  by  traitors  lodged  in  his  own  breast, 

Bv  sweet  complacencies  from  virtue  felt  ? 

Why  whispers  nature  lies  on  virtue's  part  ? 

Or  if  blind  instinct  (which  assumes  the  name  185 

Of  sacred  conscience)  plays  the  fool  in  man, 

Why  reason  made  accomplice  in  the  cheat  ? 

Why  are  the  wisest  loudest  in  her  praise  ? 

Can  man  bv  reason's  beam  be  lead  astray  ? 

Or,  at  his  peril,  imitate  his  God?  190 

Since  virtue  sometimes  ruins  us  on  earth, 

Or  both  are  true,  or  man  survives  the  grave. 

Or  man  survives  the  grave,  or  own,  Lorenzo, 
Thy  boast  supreme,  a  wild  absurdity. 

Dauntless  thy  spirit ;  cowards  are  thy  scorn.  195 

Grant  man  immortal,  and  thy  scorn  is  just. 
The  man  immortal,  rationally  brave, 
Dares  rush  on  death — because  he  cannot  die. 
But  if  man  loses  all,  when  life  is  lost, 

should  be  so  constituted  as  to  experience  self-aporobation  and  delight  in 
virtuous  action  and  hope  of  future  reward. 

189-90.  Can  man,  &c.  :  That  is,  can  reason,  which  coincides  with  those 
workings  of  our  moral  instincts,  mislead  and  cheat  us;  and  further,  can  we 
imitate  God  only  at  the  peril  to  our  happiness,  since  virtue  sometimes  ruins  us 
on  earth  (191)  — and  he  then  adds,  or  both  are  true,  that  is,  either  both  of  the 
propositions  implied  in  these  questions  are  true  ;  in  other  words,  either  our 
reason  misleads  us,  and  we  peril  our  happiness  by  obeying  and  imitarir.g 
God.  or  we  shall  live  hereafter  (192),  and  it  will  then  appear  that  reason  in 
prompting  us  to  virtue  did  not  err,  and  that  in  imitating  God  we  were  not 
periling,   but  making  sure,  our  happiness. 

193.  Or  man.  &c.  :  Either  man,  &c. 

194.  Boast  supreme:  Of  being  above  the  fear  of  death. 

196.   Scorn  (of  cowards) ;  scorn  of  those  who  are  afraid  to  die. 


304  THE    COMPLAINT. 

He  lives  a  coward,  or  a  fool  expires.  200 

A  daring  infidel  (and  such  there  are, 

From  pride,  example,  lucre,  rage,  revenge, 

Or  pure  heroical  defect  of  thought,) 

Of  all  earth's  madmen,  most  deserves  a  chain. 

"When  to  the  grave  we  follow  the  renown'd  205 

For  valour,  virtue,  science,  all  we  love, 
And  all  we  praise ;  for  worth,  whose  noon-tide  beam, 
Enabling  us  to  think  in  higher  style, 
Mends  our  ideas  of  ethereal  pow'rs  ; 

Dream  we,  that  lustre  of  the  moral  world  210 

Goes  out  in  stench,  and  rottenness  the  close  ? 
"Why  was  he  wise  to  know,  and  warm  to  praise, 
And  strenuous  to  transcribe,  in  human  life, 
The  Mind  Almighty  I     Could  it  be,  that  fate, 
Just  when  the  lineaments  began  to  shine,  215 

And  dawn,  the  Deity  should  snatch  the  draught, 
With  night  eternal  blot  it  out,  and  give 
The  skies  alarm,  lest  angels  too  might  die  ? 

If  human  souls,  why  not  angelic  too 
Extinguish'd  ?  and  a  solitary  God,  220 

O'er  ghastly  ruin,  frowning  from  his  throne  ? 
Shall  we  this  moment  gaze  on  God  in  man  ? 
The  next,  lose  man  for  ever  in  the  dust  ? 
From  dust  we  disengage,  or  man  mistakes ; 
And  there,  where  least  his  judgment  fears  a  flaw.  225 

Wisdom  and  worth  how  boldly  he  commends  ! 

200.  When  Caesar  had  reached  his  highest  elevation  at  Rome,  and  was 
urged  by  his  friends  to  surround  his  person  with  a  guard,  for  the  sake  of 
safety,  he  refused,  and  justified  himself  by  saying,  "  It  is  better  to  die  once, 
than  to  live  always  in  fear  of  death." 

207.  For  worth :  (when  we  follow  the  renowned)  for  worth.  The  argu- 
ment on  this  point  is  strongly  stated  210-218. 

219.  Why  not  angelic,  &c.  :  The  argument  is  carried  higher.  The  perpetual 
existence  of  angels,  which  is  not  denied,  gives  ground  to  infer  the  same 
event  of  human  minds,  being  constituted  in  many  respects  alike. 

224.  Disengage  (ourselves) . 


NIGHT    VII.  305 

Wisdom  and  worth  are  sacred  names  ;  revered, 

Where  not  embraced;  applauded  1  deified! 

Why  not  compassion'd  too  ?     If  spirits  die, 

Both  are  calamities;  inflicted  both  230 

228.   Where:    (even)  where. 

230.  Botn  :  Wisdom  and  worth.  The  argument  is,  that  these  are  calami- 
ties, because  they  fit  us  to  discover  more  clear])'  the  miseries  of  life,  and  to 
feel  more  acutely  the  want  of  a  suitable  recompense,  in  this  life,  of  virtuous 
conduct.  Hence,  if  there  be  no  future  life,  weakness  and  vice  have  these 
advantages  above  wisdom  and  virtue,  and  may  be  regarded  as  the  refuge  of 
mankind. 

But  (238)  Lorenzo  objects  that  virtue  has  joys  of  its  own,  which  should  be 
regarded  as  a  sufficient  recompense  and  motive.  (243)  Virtue's  self-reward. 
Our  author  replies,  that  there  is  a  fierce  contest  between  virtue  and  vice ; 
and  that  we  need  a  stronger  motive,  a  higher  prize  of  virtue,  than  the  com- 
placency felt  in  its  emotions.  Nothing  less  moving  than  the  everlasting 
rewards  of  Christianity  will  be  found  a  sufficient  encouragement  of  virtue 
to  preserve  its  existence  on  earth. 

Lord  Shaftesbury  and  others  have  objected  to  Christianity  on  account  of 
its  holding  forth  the  doctrine  of  a  reward  to  virtue  in  a  future  state,  that  it 
is  a  mercenary  system.  The  objection  is  so  well  answered  by  Andrew 
Fuller,  who  presents  such  clear  and  important  views  on  this  whole  subject 
that  we  cannot  forbear  to  copy  the  following  observations: 

'•Every  man  may  be  considered  either  singly  or  connectedly;  either  as  a 
being  by  himself,  or  as  a  link  in  a  certain  chain  of  beings.  Under  one  or 
other  of  these  views  every  man  considers  himself,  while  pursuing  his  own 
interest.  If  the  former,  this  is  to  make  himself  the  ultimate  end  of  his 
actions,  and  to  love  all  other  beings,  created  or  uncreated,  only  as  they  sub- 
serve his  interest  or  his  pleasure  :  this  is  private  self-love  :  this  is  mean  and 
mercenary,  and  what  we  commonly  understand  by  the  term  selfishness. 
But.  if  the  latter,  there  is  nothing  mean  or  selfish  in  it.  He  who  seeks  his 
own  well-being  in  connexion  with  the  general  good  seeks  it  as  he  ought  to 
do.  No  man  is  required  directly  to  oppose  his  own  welfare,  though,  in  some 
instances,  he  may  be  required  to  sacrifice  it  for  1he  general  good.  Neither 
is  it  necessary  that  he  should  be  indifferent  to  it.  Reason,  as  well  as  Scrip- 
ture, requires  us  to  love  ourselves  as  well  as  our  neighbor.  To  this  may  be 
added,  every  man  is  not  only  a  link  in  the  chain  of  intelligent  beings,  and  so 
deserving  of  some  regard  from  himself,  as  well  as  from  others,  but  every 
man:s  person,  family,  and  connexions,  and  still  more  the  concerns  of  his  soul, 
are,  as  it  were,  his  own  vineyard,  over  the  interests  of  which  it  is  his  pecu- 
liar province  to  exercise  a  watchful  care.     Only  let  the  care  of  himself  and 


300  THE    COMPLAINT. 

To  make  us  but  more  wretched.     Wisdom's  eye 

Acute,  for  what  ?     To  spy  more  miseries  ; 

And  worth,  so  recompensed,  new-points  their  stings. 

Or  man  surmounts  the  grave,  or  gain  is  loss, 

And  worth  exalted,  humbles  us  the  more.  235 

Thou  wilt  not  patronize  a  scheme  that  makes 

Weakness  and  vice  the  refuge  of  mankind. 

'  Has  virtue,  then,  no  joys  ?' — Yes,  joys  dear  bought. 
Talk  ne'er  so  long,  in  this  imperfect  state, 
Virtue  and  vice  are  at  eternal  war.  240 

Virtue's  a  combat ;  and  who  fights  for  nought  ? 
Or  for  precarious,  or  for  small  reward  ? 
Who  virtue's  self-reward  so  loud  resound, 
Would  take  degrees  angelic  here  below, 

And  virtue,  while  they  compliment,  betray,  245 

By  feeble  motives,  and  unfaithful  guards. 
The  crown,  th'  unfading  crown,  her  soul  inspires : 
'Tis  that,  and  that  alone,  can  countervail 
The  body's  treach'ries,  and  the  world's  assaults  : 
On  earth's  poor  pay  our  famish'd  virtue  dies.  250 

his  immediate  connexions  be  in  subserviency  to  the  general  good,  and  there 
is  nothing  mercenary  in  it." 

"I  need  not  multiply  arguments  to  prove  that  the  doctrine  of  rewards  does 
not  necessarily  tend  to  encourage  a  mercenary  spirit,  or  that  it  is  consistent 
with  the  disinterested  love  of  virtue.  Lord  Shaftesbury  himself  has  ac- 
knowledged this :  '  if  by  the  hope  of  reward,'  he  says,  '  be  understood  the 
love  and  desire  of  virtuous  enjoyment,  or  of  the  very  practice  or  exercise  of 
virtue  in  another  life,  the  expectation  or  hope  of  this  kind  is  so  far  from 
being  derogatory  to  virtue,  that  it  is  an  evidence  of  our  loving  it  the  more 
sincerely,  and  for  its  own  sake.'  This  single  concession  contains  an  answer 
to  all  that  his  lordship  has  advanced  on  the  subject ;  for  the  rewards  pro- 
mised  in  the  gospel  are  all  exact!)'  of  the  description  which  he  mentions.  It 
is  true  they  are  often  represented  under  the  images  of  earthly  things;  but  j 
this  does  not  prove  that,  in  themselves,  they  are  not  pure  and  spiritual.  J 
The  sum  of  heavenly  enjoyments  consists  in  a  holy  likeness  to  God,  and  in 
the  eternal  enjoyment  of  his  favour.  No  mar,  can  truly  desire  the  favour  of 
God  as  his  chief  good  without  a  proportionate  esteem  of  his  character, 
and  that  for  its  own  excellency,  and  this  is  a  disinterested  affection  to 
viitue." 


NIGHT    VII.  307 

Truth  incontestable !  in  spite  of  all 

A  Bayle  has  preach'd,  or  a  Voltaire  believed. 

252.  Bayle —  Voltaire :  Two  very  eminent  French  sceptics  and  writers. 
The  most  celebrated  work  of  the  former  is  his  Critical  Dictionary  in  four 
folio  volumes.  Of  him,  Voltaire  says,  that  "he  is  the  first  of  logicians  and 
sceptics.  His  greatest  enemies  must  confess  that  there  is  not  a  line  in  his 
works  which  contains  an  open  aspersion  of  Christianity:  but  his  warmest 
apologists  must  acknowledge  that  there  is  not  a  page  in  his  controversial 
writings,  which  does  not  lead  the  reader  to  doubt  and  often  to  scepticism." 
James  Douglas  has  in  substance  observed  farther,  that  the  academic  scepti- 
cism which  the  genius  of  Bayle  revived,  and  made  popular  in  modern  times, 
is  fast  passing  away,  if  not  altogether  extinct :  nor  is  it  likely  ever  to  be 
restored,  by  any  train  of  favouring  circumstances.  Men  have  discovered 
Ihe  radical  absurdity  of  our  seeking,  for  the  avowed  purpose  of  never  find- 
ing ;  of  perpetually  reasoning,  in  order  never  to  come  to  any  valuable  result. 
Doubt  is  but  the  first  step  of  ignorance  towards  inquiry;  and  inquiry, 
honestly  and  patiently  pursued,  leads  to  truth,  knowledge,  certainty.  Bayle 
died  at  Rotterdam  in  1706. 

Voltaire  died  in  177S,  having  passed  the  last  thirty  years  of  his  long  life  at 
Ferney,  near  Geneva,  in  Switzerland.  His  death-bed  is  described  as  a 
scene  of  unutterable  remorse  and  horror.  He  was  a  most  lively,  talented, 
sophistical,  and  voluminous  writer,  and  wrote  on  almost  every  subject;  he 
was  also  a  most  subtile  and  rancorous  opponent  to  Christianity,  and  pre- 
dicted, as  the  result  of  his  infidel  writings,  that  Christianity  would  soon  fall 
in  ruins.  He  made  a  sad  mistake.  The  opposition  has  only  revealed  its 
superior  strength,  purity,  and  glory.  The  last  fifty  years  of  Voltaire's  life 
were  unweariedly  and  most  ingeniously  devoted  to  the  work  of  "  crushing 
the  wretch,"  as  he  blasphemously  denominated  the  Lord  Jesus:  and  in  it 
he  enlisted  many  associates,  among  others  D'Alembert,  Diderot,  and  Frede- 
rick II.  of  Prussia.  The  publications  issued  by  them  deluged  Europe  with 
the  most  i) religious  and  demoralizing  doctrines;  the  effects  of  which  have 
not  yet  passed  away. 

"Lausanne  !  and  Forney  !  ye  have  been  the  abodes 
Of  names  which  unto  you  bequeathed  a  name  ; 
Mortals,  who  sought  and  found,  by  dangerous  roads, 
A  path  to  perpetuity  of  fame : 
They  were  gigantic  miDds,  and  their  steep  aim 
Was,  Titan-like,  on  daring  doubts  to  pile 
Thoughts  winch  should  call  down  thunder  and  the  flame 
Of  Heaven,  again  assail'd,  if  Heaven  the  while 
On  man  and  man's  research  could  deign  do  more  than  smile. 

The  one  ( Voltaire)  was  fire  and  fickleness,  a  child, 

Most  mutabie  in  wishes,  but  in  mind 

A  wit  as  various — gay,  grave,  sage,  or  wild, — 


308  THE  COMPLAINT. 


ARGUMENT  FROM  KNOWLEDGE  AND  LOVE. 

In  man,  the  more  we  dive,  the  more  we  see 
Ileav'n's  signet  stamping  an  immortal  make. 
Dive  to  the  bottom  of  his  soul,  the  base  255 

Sustaining  all,  what  find  we  ?     Knowledge,  love  : 
As  light  and  heat  essential  to  the  sun, 
These  to  the  soul.     And  why,  if  souls  expire  ? 
How  little  lovely  here  ?     How  little  known  ? 
Small  knowledge  we  dig  up  with  endless  toil ;  260 

Historian,  bard,  philosopher  combined ; 
He  multiplied  himself  among  m-ankind. 
The  Proteus  of  their  talent :  but  his  own 
Breathed  most  in  ridicule,— which,  as  the  wind, 
Blew  where  it  listed,  laying  all  things  prone, — 
Now  to  o'erthrow  a  fool,  and  now  to  shake  a  throne. 

The  other,  {Gihoon)  deep  and  slow,  exhausting  thought, 

And  hiving  wisdom  with  each  studious  year, 

In  meditation  dwelt,  with  learning  wrought, 

And  shaped  his  weapon  with  an  edge  severe, 

Sapping  a  solemn  creed  with  solemn  sneer : 

The  lord  of  irony,  that  master  spell, 

Which  stung  his  foes,"  &c. — Childe  Harold,  Canto  III. 

As  bearing  upon  the  present  subject,  the  doctrines  of  the  infidel  publica- 
tions referrpd  to  were,  that  we  cannot  discern  any  difference  between  virtue 
and  vice :  that  it  is  absurd  to  hold  the  soul  to  be  a  spiritual  being ;  that  the 
immortality  of  the  soul,  so  far  from  its  stimulating  man  to  the  practice  of 
virtue,  is  nothing  but  a  barbarous,  desperate,  fatal  tenet,  and  ccntrary  to  all 
legislation  ;  that  all  ideas  of  justice  and  injustice,  of  virtue  and  vice,  of  glory 
and  infamy,  are  purely  arbitrary,  and  dependent  on  custom. 

253.  Another  argument  here  commences.  Future  life  is  inferred  from  the 
knowledge  and  love  which  our  author  regards  as  fundamental  properties  of 
the  soul — the  base  sustaining  all — the  basis  of  all.  But  these  angel  capacities 
of  man  are  not  filled  on  earth,  while  the  brutal  appetites  have  satiety :  the 
objects  of  love  and  of  knowledge  must  be  boundless  to  gratify  our  angel  ap- 
petites ;  and  hence  we  may  anticipate  another  and  wider  state  of  being, 
of  action,  and  enjoyment.  For  (277)  it  is  God's  plan,  in  all  nature,  to  suit 
objects,  powers,  and  appetites  to  one  another — where  appetites  are  implant- 
ed, suitable  objects  are  provided.  We  have  no  right  to  suppose  that  man 
alone  is  an  exception,  with  respect  to  this  universal  law  of  divine  provi- 
dence. 


NionT  vii.  309 

And  love  unfeign'd  may  purchase  perfect  hate. 

Why  starved,  on  earth,  our  angel  appetites, 

While  brutal  are  indulged  their  fulsome  fill  ? 

Were,  then,  capacities  divine  eonferr'd, 

As  a  mock  diadem,  in  savage  sport,  205 

Rank  insult  of  our  pompous  poverty, 

Which  reaps  but  pain  from  seeming  claims  so  fair  ? 

In  future  age  lies  no  redress  ?     And  shuts 

Eternity  the  door  on  our  complaint  \ 

If  so,  for  what  strange  ends  were  mortals  made  !  270 

The  worst  to  wallow,  and  the  best  to  wreep  : 

The  man  who  merits  most,  must  most  complain. 

Can  we  conceive  a  disregard  in  Heav'n, 

What  the  worst  perpetrate,  or  best  endure  ? 

This  cannot  be.     To  love,  and  know,  in  man  275 

Is  boundless  appetite,  and  boundless  pow'r ; 
And  these  demonstrate  boundless  objects  too. 
Objects,  pow'rs,  appetites,  Heav'n  suits  in  all ; 
Nor,  nature  through,  e'er  violates  this  sweet 
Eternal  concord  on  her  tuneful  string. 

Is  man  the  sole  exception  from  her  laws?  280 

Eternity  struck  off  from  human  hope, 
(I  speak  with  truth,  but  veneration  too) 
Man  is  a  monster,  the  reproach  of  Heav'n, 
A  stain,  a  dark  impenetrable  cloud 

On  nature's  beauteous  aspect;  and  deforms,  285 

(Amazing  blot !)  deforms  her  with  her  lord. 
If  such  is  man's  allotment,  what  is  Heav'n  ? 
Or  own  the  soul  immortal,  or  blasj^heme. 

ARGUMENT  FROM  THE  ORDER  OF  CREATION. 

Or  own  the  soul  immortal,  or  invert 
All  order.     Go,  mock-majesty  !  go,  man  !  290 

274.    What :    {\n  respect  to)   what,  &c. 
288-9.   Or  own  :  Either  own. 


310  THE    COMPLAINT. 

And  bow  to  thy  superiors  of  the  stall ; 

Through  ev'ry  scene  of  sense  superior  far  : 

They  graze  the  turf  untill'd ;  they  drink  the  stream 

Unbrew'd,  and  ever  full,  and  unimbitter'd 

With  doubts,  fears,  fruitless  hopes,  regrets,  despairs,  295 

Mankind's  peculiar  !     Reason's  precious  dow'r ! 

No  foreign  clime  they  ransack  for  their  robes  ; 

Nor  brothers  cite  to  the  litigious  bar  ; 

Their  good  is  good  entire,  unmix'd,  unmarr'd  ; 

They  find  a  paradise  in  every  field,  300 

On  boughs  forbidden  where  no  curses  hang  : 

Their  ill  no  more  than  strikes  the  sense ;  unstretcht 

By  previous  dread,  or  murmur  in  the  rear  : 

When  the  worst  comes,  it  comes  unfear'd  ;  one  stroke 

Begins  and  ends  their  wo  :  they  die  but  once  ;  305 

Blest,  incommunicable  privilege !  for  which 

Proud  man,  who  rules  the  globe,  and  reads  the  stars, 

Philosopher,  or  hero,  sighs  in  vain. 

Account  for  this  prerogative  in  brutes. 
No  day,  no  glimpse  of  day,  to  solve  the  knot,  310 

But  what  beams  on  it  from  eternity. 
O  sole,  and  sweet  solution  !     That  unties 
The  difficult,  and  softens  the  severe ; 
The  cloud  on  nature's  beauteous  face  dispels ; 
Restores  bright  order;  casts  the  brute  beneath  ;  315 

And  re-enthrones  us  in  supremacy 
Of  joy,  e'en  here  :  admit  immortal  life, 

291.  Superiors  of  ike  stall:  The  argument  here  is,  that  if  the  present  is  the 
only  state  of  being,  the  brutes  are  our  superiors  in  respect  to  freedom  from 
pain,  fear,  and  anxiety  ;  and  in  respect  to  enjoyment.  This  is  to  be  regarded 
as  an  absurdity  ;  for  it  inverts  all  proper  ideas  of  order  to  suppose  that  beings 
of  vastly  inferior  powers  should  be  intended  for  greater  enjoyment  than 
man.  But  there  is  no  such  absurdity,  if  we  allow  man  to  expand  his  powers 
and  extend  his  enjoyments  in  a  nobler  state  of  being. 

296.  Mankinds  peculiar :  His  exclusive  inheritance. 

302.  Unstretcht: "Their  ill  is  not  stretched,  or  increased,  by  previous 
dread,  &<*. 


NIGHT    VII.  311 

And  virtue  ia  knight-errantry  no  more  ; 

Each  virtue  brings  in  hand  a  golden  dow'r, 

Far  richer  in  reversion  :  hope  exults;  320 

And  though  much  bitter  in  our  cup  is  thrown, 

Predominates,  and  gives  the  taste  of  heav'n. 

0  wherefore  is  the  Deity  so  kind  ? 

Astonishing  beyond  astonishment ! 

Heav'n  our  reward — for  heav'n  enjoy'd  below.  325 

ARGUMENT    FROM    AMBITION. 

Still  unsubdued  thy  stubborn  heart  ? — For  there 
The  traitor  lurks  who  doubts  the  truth  I  sing. 
Reason  is  guiltless  !  will  alone  rebels. 
What,  in  that  stubborn  heart,  if  I  should  find 
New  unexpected  witnesses  against  thee  ?  330 

Ambition,  pleasure,  and  the  love  of  gain  ! 
Canst  thou  suspect  that  these,  which  make  the  soul 
The  slave  of  earth,  should  own  her  heir  of  heav'n  ? 
Canst  thou  suspect  what  makes  us  disbelieve 
Our  immortality,  should  prove  it  sure  ?  335 

First,  then,  ambition  summon  to  the  bar. 
Ambition's  shame,  extravagance,  disgust, 
And  inextinguishable  nature,  speak. 
Each  much  deposes ;  hear  them  in  their  turn. 

Thy  soul,  how  passionately  fond  of  fame !  340 

How  anxious  that  fond  passion  to  conceal ! 
We  blush,  detected  in  designs  on  praise, 
Though  for  best  deeds,  and  from  the  best  of  men. 
And  why  ?     Because  immortal.     Art  divine 
Has  made  the  body  tutor  to  the  soul ;  345 

Heav'n  kindly  gives  our  blood  a  moral  flow; 

320.  In  reversion  :  In  future  experience. 

342.  We  blush,  &c.  :  The  first  point  of  this  argument  is  that  ambition  is 
ashamed  to  solicit  praise  from  man,  as  an  ultimate  object,  being  conscious  of 
a  higher  tribunal  where  praise  or  blame  is  awarded. 

346.  A  moral  flow:  The  flow  of  blood  to  the  glowing  cheek  is  made  an 
index  of  the  moral  feelings. 


312  THK    COMPLAINT. 

Bids  it  ascend  the  glowing  cheek,  and  there 

Uphraid  that  little  heart's  inglorious  aim, 

Which  stoops  to  court  a  character  from  man  ; 

While  o'er  us,  in  tremendous  judgment  sit  350 

Far  more  than  man,  with  endless  praise  and  blame. 

Ambition's  boundless  appetite  out-speaks 
The  verdict  of  its  shame.     When  souls  take  fire 
At  high  presumptions  of  their  own  desert, 
One  age  is  poor  applause  ;  the  mighty  shout,  355 

The  thunder  by  the  living  few  begun, 
Late  time  must  echo  ;  worlds  unborn  resound. 
We  wish  our  names  eternally  to  live  : 
Wild  dream  !  which  ne'er  had  haunted  human  thought, 
Had  not  our  natures  been  eternal  too.  360 

Instinct  points  out  an  int'rest  in  hereafter ; 
But  our  blind  reason  sees  not  where  it  lies ; 
Or  seeing,  gives  the  substance  for  the  shade. 

Fame  is  the  shade  of  immortality, 
And  in  itself  a  shadow.     Soon  as  caught,  366 

Contemn'd  ;  it  shrinks  to  nothing  in  the  grasp. 
Consult  th'  ambitious,  'tis  ambition's  cure. 
'  And  is  this  all  V  cried  Csesar,  at  his  height, 
Disgusted.     This  third  proof  ambition  brings 
Of  immortality.     The  first  in  fame,  370 

Observe  him  near,  your  envy  will  abate  : 
Shamed  at  the  disproportion  vast  between 
The  passion  and  the  purchase,  he  will  sigh 
At  such  success,  and  blush  at  his  renown. 
And  why  ?     Because  far  richer  prize  invites  375 

His  heart ;  far  more  illustrious  glory  calls  : 

352.  The  second  point  of  this  argument  is  the  boundless  field  over  which 
ambition  instinctively  desires  to  expatiate;  the  field  of  immortality. 

364.  The  next  point  is  the  disgust  felt  with  the  highest  rewards  of  am- 
bition on  earth.  Earthly  fame  is  discovered  to  be  a  shadow,  while  it  is  the 
shade  of  immortality,  that  is.  a  shadow  produced  hy  the  glorious  splendour  of 
immortality.  In  the  absence  of  all  luminous  bodies  there  can  be  no  shade. 
It  is  immortal  s'lorv  that  must  have  originated  the  shadowy  fame  of  earth. 


NIGHT    VII.  813 

It  calls  in  whisptrs,  yet  tin  bear. 

And  can  ambition  a  four;!;  proof  supply  ? 
It  can,  and  stronger  than  the  former  three; 
Yet  quite  o'erlook'd  by  some  reputed  wise.  380 

Though  disappointments  in  ambition  pain, 
Aud  though  success  disgusts,  yet  still,  Lorenzo, 
In  vain  we  strive  to  pluck  it  from  our  hearts  ; 
By  nature  planted  for  the  noblest  ends. 

Absurd  the  famed  advice  to  Pyrrhus  giv'n,  385 

More  praised  than  ponder'd  ;  specious,  but  unsound  : 
Sooner  that  hero's  sword  the  world  had  quell'd, 
Than  reason  his  ambition.     Man  must  soar  : 
An  obstinate  activity  within, 

An  unsuppressive  spring,  will  toss  him  up,  390 

In  spite  of  fortune's  load.     Not  kings  alone, 
Each  villager  has  his  ambition  too  ; 
No  sultan  prouder  than  his  fetter'd  slave  : 

383.  In  vain  tee  strive,  &c.  :  The  inextinguishable  nature  of  ambition  is  the 
fourth  point  of  this  argument. 

385.  Advice  to  Pyrrhus  gitfn,  &c.  :  Our  author  probably  alludes  to  the 
following  account  which  is  given  by  Plutarch,  here  considerably  abridged. 
Pyrrhus  was  preparing  to  invade  Italy.  His  faithful  counsellor,  Cineas,  said 
to  him,  ':  If  it  please  heaven  that  we  conquer  the  Romans,  who  have  the 
command  of  many  warlike  nations,  what  use  shall  we  make  of  our  victory  ?" 
Pyrrhus  answered,  "  There  will  then  be  no  town  in  any  country  that  will 
dare  oppose  us.;;  "But,''"  said  Cineas,  "after  we  have  conquered  Italy 
what  next?"  Pyrrhus.  not  perceiviDg  his  drift,  replied,  "We  will  take 
Sicily.''  Cineas  then  asked,  "Shall  that  conclude  our  conquests?"  "By 
no  means."  answered  the  other;  "who  then  can  forbear  Lybia,  and  Car- 
thage, and  Macedonia,  and  Greece."  Cineas  rejoined,  "  When  all  this  is 
done,  what  are  we  to  do  then  ?"  "  Why,  then,  my  friend,"  said  Pyrrhus, 
laughing,  "  we  will  take  our  ease  and  drink  and  be  merry."  Cineas  having 
brought  him  thus  far  replied,  "  And  what  hinders  us  from  drinking  and  tak- 
ing our  ease  now,  when  we  have  already  these  things  in  our  hands,  at  which 
we  propose  to  arrive  through  seas  of  blood,  through  infinite  toils,  and  dan- 
gers and  calamities,  which  we  must  both  cause  and  suffer  ?"  This  conver- 
sation gave  pain  to  the  ambitious  general,  but  produced  no  reformation.  He 
saw  that  he  was  giving  up  certain  happiness,  but  was  not  able  to  forego  thf 
obirds  of  hope  that  ilattered  his  desires. 

u 


31-1  THE    COMPLAINT. 

Slaves  build  their  little  Babylons  of  straw, 

Echo  the  proud  Assyrian  in  their  hearts,  395 

And  cry,  '  Behold  the  wonders  of  my  might !' 

And  why  ?     Because  immortal  as  their  lord  : 

And  souls  immortal  must  for  ever  heave 

At  something  great ;   the  glitter,  or  the  gold  ; 

Thp  praise  of  mortals,  or  the  praise  of  Heav'n.  400 

Nor  absolutely  vain  is  human  praise, 
When  human  is  supported  by  divine. 
I'll  introduce  Lorenzo  to  himself : 
Pleasure  and  pride  (bad  masters !)  share  our  hearts. 
As  love  of  pleasure  is  ordain'd  to  guard  405 

And  feed  our  bodies,  and  extend  our  race ; 
The  love  of  praise  is  planted  to  protect 
And  propagate  the  glories  of  the  mind. 
What  is  it,  but  the  love  of  praise,  inspires, 
Matures,  refines,  embellishes,  exalts,  410 

Earth's  happiness  ?     From  that  the  delicate, 
The  grand,  the  marvellous,  of  civil  life. 
Want  and  convenience,  under-workers,  lay 
The  basis,  on  which  love  of  glory  builds. 
Nor  is  thy  life,  O  virtue  !  less  in  debt  415 

To  praise,  thy  secret  stimulating  friend. 
Were  man  not  proud,  what  merit  should  we  miss ! 
Pride  made  the  virtues  of  the  Pagan  world. 

396.  Dan.  14  :  30.  "  The  king  spake  and  said,  Is  not  this  great  Babylon 
that  I  have  built  for  the  honour  of  the  kingdom,  by  the  might  of  my 
power,  and  for  the  honour  of  my  majesty  V 

401.  The  uses  of  the  love  of  2)raisc  are  here  exhibited.  On  this  point  may 
be  consulted  with  great  advantage  the  fourth  of  Foster's  Essays,  Letter  IX. 
He  shows  its  uses :  but  more  particularly  its  enormous  and  fatal  abuses ; 
and  gives  the  Christian  views  on  this  point  in  contrast  with  those  too  com- 
monly introduced  into  polite  literature.  Reference  may  also  be  made  to 
Boyd's  Eclectic  Moral  Philosophy,  pp.  07—69. 

418.  Seasons  right :  M.ikes  right  feelings  and  conduct  pleasant.  The 
author  shows  how  praise  may  be  made  auxiliary  to  virtue.  But  it  should  be 
considered  that  he  who  loves  the  praise  of  man  more  than  that  of  God  is 
destitute  of  tru^  virtue — that  which  the  Bible  regards  as  true. 


KIGRT    VII.  315 

Praise  is  the  salt  that  seasons  right  to  man, 

And  whets  his  appetite  for  moral  good.  420 

Thirst  of  applause  is  virtue's  second  guard  ; 

Reason  her  first ;  but  reason  wants  an  aid  : 

Our  private  reason  is  a  flatterer ; 

Thirst  of  applause  calls  public  judgment  in 

To  poise  our  own,  to  keep  an  even  scale,  425 

And  give  endanger'd  virtue  fairer  play. 

ARGUMENT    FROM    THE    MORAL    SENSE. 

Here  a  fifth  proof  arises,  stronger  still : 
Why  this  so  nice  construction  of  our  hearts  ? 
These  delicate  moralities  of  sense  ; 

This  constitutional  reserve  of  aid  430 

To  succour  virtue,  when  our  reason  fails  ; 
If  virtue,  kept  alive  by  care  and  toil, 
And,  oft,  the  mark  of  injuries  on  earth, 
When  labour'd  to  maturity  (its  bill 

Of  disciplines  and  pains  unpaid,)  must  die  ?  435 

Why  freighted  rich  to  dash  against  a  rock  ? 
Were  man  to  perish  when  most  fit  to  live, 
O  how  misspent  were  all  these  stratagems, 
By  skill  divine  inwoven  in  our  frame ! 

Where  are  HeavVs  holiness  and  mercy  fled  ?  440 

Laughs  Heav'n,  at  once,  at  virtue  and  at  man  ? 
If  not  why  that  discouraged,  this  destroy'd  ? 

ARGUMENT  FROM  AVARICE. 

Thus  far  ambition.     What  says  avarice  ? 
This  her  chief  maxim,  which  has  long  been  thine : 
'  The  wise  and  wealthy  are  the  same.'     I  grant  it.  445 

To  store  up  treasure,  with  incessant  toil, 
This  is  man's  province,  this  his  highest  praise ; 
To  this  great  end  keen  instinct  stings  him  on. 

446.   Treasure  :  Here  used  in  its  largest  sense. 


310  THE    COMPLAINT. 

To  guide  that  instinct,  reason  !  is  thy  charge, 

'Tis  thine  to  tell  us  where  true  treasure  lies :  450 

But,  reason  failing  to  discharge  her  trust, 

Or  to  the  deaf  discharging  it  in  vain, 

A  blunder  follows  ;  and  blind  industry, 

Gall'd  by  the  spur,  but  stranger  to  the  course, 

(The  course  where  stakes  of  more  than  gold  are  won)         455 

O'erloading  with  the  cares  of  distant  age, 

The  jaded  spirits  of  the  present  hour, 

Provides  for  an  eternity  below. 

'  Thou  shalt  not  covet,'  is  a  wise  command  ; 
But  bounded  to  the  wealth  the  sun  surveys  :  4G0 

Look  farther,  the  command  stands  quite  reversed, 
And  av'rice  is  a  virtue  most  divine. 
Is  faith  a  refuge  for  our  happiness  ? 
Most  sure.     And  is  it  not  for  reason  too  ? 
Nothing  this  world  unriddles,  but  the  next.  405 

Whence  inextinguishable  thirst  of  gain  ? 
From  inextinguishable  life  in  man. 
Man,  if  not  meant,  by  worth,  to  reach  the  skies, 
Had  wanted  wing  to  fly  so  far  in  guilt. 

Sour  grapes,  I  grant,  ambition,  avarice  :  470 

Yet  still  their  root  is  immortality. 
These  its  wild  growths  so  bitter,  and  so  base, 
(Pain,  and  reproach  !)  religion  can  reclaim, 
Refine,  exalt,  throw  down  their  pois'nous  lee, 
And  make  them  sparkle  in  the  bowl  of  bliss.  475 

ARGUMENT    FROM    PLEASURE. 

See,  the  third  witness  laughs  at  bliss  remote, 
And  falsely  promises  an  Eden  here  : 

470.  Sour  grapes  :  Ambition  and  avarice  are  described  by  this  expression 
because  their  proper  objects  are  beyond  our  reach  at  present,  in  allusion  to 
the  fable.  Yet  the  connexion  seems  to  give  another  meaning:  the  objects 
of  ambition  and  avarice  in  the  present  life  are  unsatisfying,  inadequate,  disa 
greeablp.  sometimes  painful. 


NIGHI    VII.  317 

Truth  she  shall  speak  for  once,  though  prone  to  lie, 

A  common  cheat,  and  Pleasure  is  her  name. 

To  pleasure  never  was  Lorenzo  deaf;  480 

Then  hear  her  now,  now  first  thy  real  friend. 

Since  nature  made  us  not  more  fond  than  proud 
Of  happiness  (whence  hypocrites  in  joy  ! 
Makers  of  mirth  !  artificers  of  smiles  !) 

Why  should  the  joy  most  poignant  sense  affords  485 

Burn  us  with  blushes,  and  rebuke  our  pride  ? — 
Those  heav'n-born  blushes  tell  us  man  descends, 
E'en  in  the  zenith  of  his  earthly  bliss : 
Should  reason  take  her  infidel  repose, 

This  honest  instinct  speaks  our  lineage  high  ;  490 

This  instinct  calls  on  darkness  to  conceal 
Our  rapturous  relation  to  the  stalls. 
Our  glory  covers  us  with  noble  shame, 
And  he  that's  unconfounded  is  unmann'd. 
The  man  that  blushes  is  not  quite  a  brute.  495 

Thus  far  with  thee,  Lorenzo,  will  I  close : 
Pleasure  is  good,  and  man  for  pleasure  made  ; 
But  pleasure  full  of  glory,  as  of  joy ; 
Pleasure  which  neither  blushes  nor  expires. 

PRECEDING   ARGUMENTS   SUMMED   UP. 

The  witnesses  are  heard  ;  the  cause  is  o'er ;  500 

Let  conscience  file  the  sentence  in  her  court, 
Dearer  than  deeds  that  half  a  realm  convey. 
Thus,  seal'd  by  truth,  th'  authentic  record  runs  : 

'  Know  all ;  know,  infidels, — unapt  to  kaow  ! 
'Tis  immortality  your  nature  solves  ;  505 

'Tis  immortality  deciphers  man, 
And  opens  all  the  myst'ries  of  his  make. 
Without  it,  half  his  instincts  are  a  riddle, 
Without  it,  all  his  virtues  are  a  dream. 

4S5.  Poignant  sense :  Acute  sensibility. 
492.   Stalls  :  Occupants  of  the  stalls,  cattle. 


318  THE    COMPLAINT. 

His  very  crimes  attest  his  dignity;  510 

His  sateless  thirst  of  pleasure,  gold,  and  fame, 

Declares  him  born  for  blessings  infinite: 

What  less  than  infinite  makes  nnabsurd 

Passions,  which  all  on  earth  but  more  inflames  ? 

Fierce  passions,  so  mismeasured  to  this  scene,  51  * 

Stretch'd  out,  like  eagles'  wings,  beyond  our  nest, 

Far,  far  beyond  the  worth  of  all  below, 

For  earth  too  large,  presage  a  nobler  flight, 

And  evidence  our  title  to  the  skies.' 

THE    GRANDEUR,    AND    TRUE    PURPOSE    OF    THE    PASSIONS. 

Ye  gentle  theologues,  of  calmer  kind!  520 

Whose  constitution  dictates  to  your  pen  ; 
Who,  cold  yourselves,  think  ardour  comes  from  hell ! 
Think  not  our  passions  from  corruption  sprung, 
Though  to  corruption  now  they  lend  their  wings ; 
That  is  their  mistress,  not  their  mother.     All  525 

(And  justly)  reason  deem  divine  :  I  see, 
I  feel  a  grandeur  in  the  passions  too, 
Which  speaks  their  high  descent,  and  glorious  end ; 
Which  speaks  them  rays  of  an  eternal  fire. 
In  Paradise  itself  they  burnt  as  strong,  530 

Ere  Adam  fell ;  though  wiser  in  their  aim. 
Like  the  proud  Eastern,  struck  by  Providence, 
What  though  our  passions  are  run  mad,  and  stoop, 
With  low  terrestrial  appetite,  to  gaze 

On  trash,  on  toys,  dethroned  from  high  desire  ?  535 

Yet  still,  through  their  disgrace,  no  feeble  ray 
Of  greatness  shines,  and  tells  us  whence  they  fell : 
But  these  (like  that  fall'n  monarch  when  reclaim'd) 

515.  Mismeasured :  Ill-proportioned. 

520.   Theolngues :  Theologians — divines. 

532.  The  proud  Eastern:  Nebuchadnezzar,  whose  history  the  prophet 
Daniel  so  beautifully  and  faithfully  writes.  The  incidents  here  referred  to 
are  narrated  in  the  book  of  Daniel,  iv.  2S-37. 


NIGHT    VII.  olO 

When  reason  {moderates  the  rein  aright. 

Shall  re-asccnd,  remount  their  former  sphere,  540 

Where  once  they  soar'd  illustrious  ;  ere  seduced 

By  wanton  Eve's  debauch,  to  stroll  on  earth, 

And  set  the  sublunary  world  on  fire. 

But  grant  their  frenzy  lasts  ;  their  frenzy  fails 
To  disappoint  one  providential  end,  545 

For  which  heav'n  blew  up  ardour  in  our  hearts : 
Were  reason  silent,  boundless  passion  speaks 
A  future  scene  of  boundless  objects  too, 
And  brings  glad  tidings  of  eternal  day. 

Eternal  day  !     'Tis  that  enlightens  all ;  550 

And  all,  by  that  enlighten'd,  proves  it  sure. 
Consider  man  as  an  immortal  being, 
Intelligible  all ;  and  all  is  great ; 
A  crystalline  transparency  prevails, 

And  strikes  full  lustre  through  the  human  sphere  ;  555 

Consider  man  as  mortal,  all  is  dark 
And  wretched ;  reason  weeps  at  the  survey. 

THE    STOIC'S    DISBELIEF    OF    IMMORTALITY    CONSIDERED. 

The  learn'd  Lorenzo  cries,  '  And  let  her  weep, 
Weak,  modern  reason  :  ancient  times  were  wise. 
Authority,  that  venerable  guide,  560 

Stands  on  my  part ;  the  famed  Athenian  j^orch 
(And  who  for  wisdom  so  renown'd  as  they  ?) 
Denied  this  immortality  to  man.' 
I  grant  it ;  but  affirm,  they  proved  it  too. 
A  riddle,  this  ? — Have  patience  ;  I'll  explain.  565 

What  noble  vanities,  what  moral  flights, 
Glitt'ring  through  their  romantic  wisdom's  page, 

56i.  Famed  Athenian  porch :  The  place  of  philosophical  instruction  is  here 
put  for  the  instructors  who  made  use  of  it.  It  bore  the  specific  name  of 
Pwcile  Stoa,  or  painted  porch,  because  it  was  adorned  with  some  fine  paint- 
ings. It  was  the  most  famous  porch  in  Athens,  and  therefore  called  by  way 
of  eminence  the  porch.  Hence  the  followers  of  Zeno,  who  selected  this  place 
for  his  school,  are  called  Stoics,  or  the  tnr.n  of  the  ponk. 


320  THE    COMPLAINT. 

Make  us,  at  once,  despise  them,  and  admire  ! 

Fable  is  flat  to  these  high-season' d  sires  ; 

They  leave  th'  extravagance  of  song  below.  570 

'  Flesh  shall  not  feel ;  or,  feeling,  shall  enjoy 

The  dagger  or  the  rack  ;  to  them,  alike 

A  bed  of  roses,  or  the  burning  bull.' 

570.  They  leave,  &c.  :  They  are  more  extravagant  in  their  opinions  than 
songs  are  in  their  exaggerations.  Among  their  opinions  these  may  be  cited: 
— "Since  those  things  only  are  truly  good  which  are  becoming  and  virtuous, 
and  virtue,  which  is  seated  in  the  mind,  is  alone  sufficient  for  happiness,  ex- 
ternal things  contribute  nothing  towards  happiness,  and,  therefore,  are  not  in 
themselves  good.  The  wise  man  will  only  value  riches,  honour,  beauty, 
and  other  external  enjoyments,  as  means  and  instruments  of  virtue  ;  for,  in 
every  condition,  he  is  happy  in  the  possession  of  a  mind  accommodated  to 
nature.  Pain,  which  does  not  belong  to  the  mind,  is  no  evil.  The  wise  man 
will  be  happy  in  the  midst  of  torture.  All  external  things  are  indifferent,  since 
they  cannot  affect  the  happiness  of  man."  All  the  extravagant  notions 
which  are  to  be  found  in  their  writings  on  this  subject  may  be  referred  to 
their  general  principle  of  the  entire  sufficiency  of  virtue  to  happiness,  and 
the  consequent  indifference  of  all  external  circumstances.  They  held  that 
in  proportion  as  we  approach  a  state  of  apathy  we  advance  towards  perfec- 
tion. 

573.  Burning  bull :  A  brazen  bull  constructed  for  an  instrument  of  tor- 
ture'; by  Perillus.  an  ingenious  artist,  and  presented  to  Phalaris,  tyrant  of 
Agrigentum.  The  brazen  image  which  he  fabricated  was  hollow,  and  had 
an  opening,  or  door,  in  the  upper  part  of  the  back,  through  which  the  victim 
of  the  tyrant's  cruelty  was  introduced  into  the  body  of  the  bull;  a-nd  a  hot 
fire  being  kindled  beneath  it,  he  was  slowly  roasted  alive,  while  the  cry  of 
the  sufferer,  as  it  came  forth  from  the  mouth  of  the  bull,  resembled  the  roar- 
ing of  a  living  animal.  Phalaris  is  said  to  have  tried  the  experiment  first 
upon  the  artist  himself.  He  lost  his  own  life,  too,  according  to  Ovid,  in  this 
same  manner,  having  himself  been  burned  in  the  bull,  and  having  had  his 
tongue  previously  cut  out. — Anthon. 

Dr.  Thomas  Brown  has  written  excellent  strictures  upon  the  Stoical  phi- 
losophy, some  of  which  will  now  be  quoted. 

Though  all  which  is  inconsistent  with  virtue  is  to  be  avoided,  the  plea- 
sure which  is  consistent  with  virtue  is  to  be  valued  not  merely  as  being 
that  which  attends  virtue  but  as  being  happiness,  or  at  least  an  clement  of 
happiness.  Between  mere  pleasure  and  mere  virtue  there  is  a  competition 
in  short  of  1he  less  with  the  greater;  but  though  virtue  be  the  greater,  and 
the  greater  in  every  case  in  which  it  can  be  opposed  to  mere  pleasure,  plea- 
sure is  still  good  in  itself  and  would  be  covetable  by  'he  virtuous  in  every 


NIGHT    VII.  321 

In  men  exploding  all  beyond  the  grave, 

Strange  doctrine,  this  ! — As  doctrine,  it  was  strange  :  57o 

Bui  not,  as  prophecy  ;  for  such  it  proved. 
And.  to  their  own  amazement,  was  fiilfill'd  : 
Tiii-v  feien'd  a  firmness  Christians  need  not  feign. 


case  in  which  the  greater  good  of  virtue  is  not  inconsistent  with  it.  Pain 
is,  in  like  manner,  an  evil  in  itself,  though  to  bear  pain  without  a  murmur,  or 
without  even  any  inward  murmurs  be  a  good,  a  good  dependent  on  ourselves, 
which  it  is  in  our  power  to  add  at  any  moment  to  the  mere  physical  ill  that 
does  not  depend  on  us,  and  a  good  more  valuable  than  the  pain  in  itself  is 
evil. 

It  is  indeed  because  pleasure  and  pain  are  not  in  themselves  absolutely 
indifferent  that  man  is  virtuous  in  resisting  the  solicitations  of  the  one  and 
the  threats  of  the  other;  and  there  is  thus  a  self-confutation  in  the  princi- 
ples of  Stoicism.  We  may  praise  indeed  the  magnanimity  of  him  who 
dares  to  suffer  every  external  evil  wrhich  man  can  sutler  rather  than  give 
his  conscience  one  guilty  remembrance ;  but  it  is  because  there  is  evil  to  be 
endured  that  we  praise  him  for  his  magnanimity  in  bearing  the  evil,  and  if 
there  be  no  ill  to  be  endured  there  is  no  magnanimity  that  can  be  called  forth 
to  endure  it.  The  bed  of  roses  differs  from  the  burning  bull  not  merely  as  a 
square  differs  from  a  circle,  or  as  flint  differs  from  clay,  but  as  that  which  is 
physically  good  differs  from  that  which  is  physically  evil;  and  if  they  did 
not  so  differ,  as  good  and  evil,  there  could  be  as  little  merit  in  consenting, 
when  virtue  required  the  sacrifice,  to  suffer  all  the  bodily  pain  which  the 
instrument  of  torture  could  inflict  rather  than  to  rest  in  guilty  indolence  on 
that  luxurious  couch  of  flowers,  as  there  could  be  in  the  mere  preference  for 
any  physical  purpose  of  a  circular  to  an  angular  form,  or  of  the  softness  of 
clay  to  the  hardness  of  flint.  Moral  excellence  is  indeed  in  every  case  pre- 
ferable to  mere  physical  enjoyment ;  and  there  is  no  enjoyment  worthy  of 
the  choice  of  man  when  virtue  forbids  the  desire.  But  virtue  is  the  supe- 
rior only,  not  the  sole  power.  She  has  imperial  sway ;  but  her  sway  is  im- 
perial only  because  there  are  forms  of  inferior  good  over  which  it  is  her 
glory  to  preside. 

With  all  the  admiration  which  it  is  impossible  for  us  not  to  feel  of  the 
sublime  parts  of  the  Stoical  system  it  is  still  founded  on  a  false  view  of  our 
nature.  Man  is  to  be  considered  not  in  one  light  only  but  in  many  lights,  in 
all  of  which  he  may  be  a  subject  of  agreeable  feelings  and  consequently  of 
happiness  as  a  series  of  agreeable  feelings.  He  is  a  sensitive  being — an 
intellectual  being — a  moral  being — a  religious  being — and  there  are  species 
?f  happiness  that  correspond  witn  these  varieties. — Philosophy  of  the  Mind, 
iH   548-9. 

14* 


322  THE    COMPLAINT. 

The  Christian  truly  triumph'd  in  the  flame ; 

The  Stoic  saw,  in  double  wonder  lost,  580 

Wonder  at  them,  and  wonder  at  himself. 

To  find  the  bold  adventures  of  his  thought 

Not  bold,  and  that  he  strove  to  lie  in  vain. 

Whence,  then,  those  thoughts  ?    those    tow'ring  thoughts, 
that  flew 
Such  monstrous  heights?     From  instinct  and  from  pride.     585 
The  glorious  instinct  of  a  deathless  soul, 
Confusedly  conscious  of  her  dignity, 
Suggested  truths  they  could  not  understand. 
In  lust's  dominion,  and  in  passion's  storm, 
Truth's  system  broken,  scatter'd  fragments  lay,  590 

As  light  in  chaos,  glimm'ring  through  the  gloom  : 
Smit  with  the  pomp  of  lofty  sentiments, 
Pleased  pride  proclaim'd,  what  reason  disbelieved. 
Pride,  like  the  Delphic  priestess,  with  a  swell, 
Raved  nonsense,  destined  to  be  future  sense,  595 

When  life  immortal  in  full  day  should  shine  ; 
And  death's  dark  shadows  fly  the  Gospel  sun. 
They  spoke,  what  nothing  but  immortal  souls 
Could  speak  ;  and  thus  the  truth  they  question'd,  prov'd. 

ENDLESS    QUESTIONS    UNRESOLVABLE    IF    MAN    IS    NOT    IMMORTAL. 

Can  then  absurdities,  as  well  as  crimes,  600 

Speak  man  immortal  ?     All  things  speak  him  so. 
Much  has  keen  urged ;  and  dost  thou  call  for  more  ? 

Call ;  and  with  endless  questions  be  distrest, 
All  unresolvable,  if  earth  is  all. 

'Why  life,  a  moment?  infinite,  desire  ?  605 

579.  Truly  triumphed,  &e.  :  The  history  of  Christian  martyrdom  abun- 
dantly justifies  this  statement.  The  martyrs,  under  the  iniluence  of  faith  in 
the  scenes  of  a  future  heaven,  realized,  exemplified  the  theory  of  the  Stoic, 
which  on  the  infidel  hypothesis,  discarding  a  future  life,  was  impracticable 
and  false. 

584.  Whence,  then,  &c.  :  The  author's  mode  of  accounting  for  the  extrava- 
gant opinions  before  referred  to,  is  exceedingly  ingenious. 


NIGHT    VII. 


323 


Our  wish,  eternity  !     Our  homo,  the  grave  ? 

Ileav'ii's  promise  dormant  lies  in  human  hope  ; 

Who  wishes  life  immortal,  proves  it  too. 

Why  happiness  pursued,  though  never  found  ? 

Man's  thirst  of  happiness  declares  it  is,  610 

(For  nature  never  gravitates  to  nought ;) 

That  thirst,  unquench'd,  declares  it  is  not  here. 

My  Lucia,  thy  Clarissa,  call  to  thought ; 

Why  cordial  friendship  riveted  so  deep, 

As  hearts  to  pierce  at  first,  at  parting,  rend,  615 

If  friend,  and  friendship,  vanish  in  an  hour? 

Is  not  this  torment  in  the  mask  of  joy  ? 

Why  hy  reflection  marr'd  the  joys  of  sense  ? 

Why  past,  and  future,  preying  on  our  hearts, 

And  putting  all  our  present  joys  to  death  ?  620 

Why  labours  reason  ?     Instinct  were  as  well ; 

Instinct,  far  better  ;  what  can  choose,  can  err  : 

O  how  infallible  the  thoughtless  brute ! 

'Twere  well  his  Holiness  were  half  as  sure. 

Reason  with  inclination,  why  at  war  ?  625 

Why  sense  of  guilt  ?     Why  conscience  up  in  arms  V 

Conscience  of  guilt,  is  prophecy  of  pain, 
And  bosom-counsel  to  decline  the  blow. 
Reason  with  inclination  ne'er  had  jarr'd, 

If  nothing  future  paid  forbearance  here.  630 

Thus  on — these,  and  a  thousand  pleas  uncall'd, 
All  promise,  some  ensure,  a  second  scene  ; 
Which,  were  it  doubtful,  would  be  dearer  far 
Than  all  things  else  most  certain  ;  were  it  false, 
What  truth  on  earth  so  precious  as  the  lie  ?  635 

613.  My  Lucia  :  Probably  the  authors  deceased  "wife.  Thy  Clarissa;  a 
deceased  friend  or  relation  of  Lorenzo. 

624.  His  Holiness :  The  arrogant  title  of  the  Pope  of  Rome,  who  claim* 
infallibility. 

628.  Bosom-counsel :  Private,  confidential  admonition. 

630.  Paid  forbearance :  Rewarded  forbearance  to  indulge  our  inclinations. 

635.  The  doctrine  of  a  future  state,  even  though  it  were  a  lie,  or  were  un- 


324  THE    COMPLAINT. 

This  an  orld  it  gives  us,  let  what  will  ensue 

TLiis  world  it  gives,  in  that  high  cordial,  hope*. 

The  future  of  the  present  is  the  soul. 

How  this  life  groans,  when  sever' d  from  the  next ! 

Poor,  mutilated  wretch,  that  disbelieves  !  G40 

By  dark  distrust  his  being  cut  in  two, 

In  both  parts  perishes  ;  life  void  of  joy, 

Sad  prelude  of  eternity  in  pain  ! 

TIIK    ANGUISH    AND    PATHETIC    COMPLAINTS    OF    A    GOOD    MAN   IN 
VIEW    OF    ANNIHILATION. 

Couldst  thou  persuade  me,  the  next  life  could  fail 
Our  ardent  wishes,  how  should  I  pour  out  645 

My  bleeding  heart  in  anguish,  new,  as  deep  ! 
Oh !  with  what  thoughts,  thy  hope,  and  my  despair, 
Abhorr'd  Annihilation  blasts  the  soul, 
And  wide  extends  the  bounds  of  human  wo ! 
Could  I  believe  Lorenzo's  system  true,  650 

In  this  black  channel  would  my  ravings  run. 

'  Grief  from  the  future  borrow'd  peace,  erewhile. 
The  future  vanish'd  !  and  the  present  pain'd ! 
Strange  import  of  unprecedented  ill ! 
Fall,  how  profound  !  like  Lucifer's,  the  fall !  655 

founded,  is  more  valuable  to  the  present  interests  of  society  than  any  other 
truth.  This  world  it  gives  us  :  That  is.  it  makes  it  entirely  a  different  thing 
to  us  from  what  it  otherwise  would  be. 

638.  The  soul :  That  which  animates,  controls  the  present  scene,  and  gives 
it,  chiefly,  its  value. 

647.  Thy  hope,  and  my  despair:  Abhorrd  annihilation,  the  object  of  thy 
hope  and  of  my  distrust  and  disbelief:  or,  that  which  could  realize  thy  hope, 
but  involve  me  in  despair,  blotting  out  all  my  hope  of  everlasting  life. 

655.  Like  Lucifer's,  thefcdl :  Language  borrowed  from  Isaiah  14  :  12. 

"  How  art  Www  full m  from  heaven, 
Lucifer,  eon  of  flu   morning: 
How  art  thou  fcllM  to  the  ground, 
That  didst  weaken  the  nations  I" 

Our  author,  by  a  poetic  license,  or  by  conformity  to  an  erroneous  intei- 


SIGHT    VII.  325 

Unequal  fate  !  his  fall,  without  his  guilt ! 

From  where  fond  hope  built  her  pavilion  high, 

The  gods  among,  hurl'd  headlong,  hurl'd  at  once 

To  nio;bt !  to  nothing !  darker  still  than  niovht ! 

If  'twas  a  dream,  why  wake  me,  my  worst  foe,  GOO 

Lorenzo,  boastful  of  the  name  of  friend  ! 

0  for  delusion !     0  for  error  still ! 

Could  vengeance  strike  much  stronger  than  to  plant 

A  thinking  being  in  a  world  like  this, 

Not  over-rich  before,  now  beggar'd  quite ;  6 Go 

More  curst  than  at  the  fall  ? — The  sun  goes  out ! 

The  thorns  shoot  up  !     What  thorns  in  ev'ry  thought ! 

Why  sense  of  better  ?     It  imbittcrs  worse. 

Why  sense  ?     Why  life  ?     If  but  to  sigh,  then  sink 

To  what  I  was  !     Twice  nothing  !  and  much  wo  !  670 

Wo  from  LTeav'n's  bounties  !     Wo  from  what  was  wont 

To  flatter  most,  high  intellectual  pow'rs  ! 

THE    ABSURDITIES    OF    THE    SCHEME    OF    ANNIHILATION. 

'  Thought,  virtue,  knowledge  !  blessings,  by  thy  scheme 
All  poison'd  into  pains.     First,  knowledge,  once 
My  soul's  ambition,  now  her  greatest  dread.  675 

To  know  myself,  true  wisdom  ?     No,  to  shun 
That  shocking  science,  parent  of  despair  ! 

pretation  applies  this  language  to  Satan.  Tertullian  and  Gregory  the  Great 
understood  thie  passage  in  reference  to  the  fall  of  Satan;  in  consequence  of 
which  the  name  Lucifer  has  since  been  applied  to  Satan :  and  this  is  now 
the  usual  signification  of  the  word.  But  Dr.  Henderson  renders  this  word 
"  Illustrious  son  of  the  morning r'  The  scope  and  connexion  show  that  none 
but  the  king  of  Babylon  is  meant.  The  monarch  here  referred  to,  having 
surpassed  all  other  kings  in  splendour,  is  compared  to  the  harbinger  of  day 
whose  brilliancy  surpasses  that  of  the  surrounding  stars.  Falling  from 
heaven  denotes  a  sudden  political  overthrow — a  removal  from  the  position 
of  high  and  conspicuous  dignity  formerly  occupied  (Compare  Rev.  vi.  13, 
viii.  10) . — Kitto's  Cyclopcedia- 

660    If  'twas  a  dream  :  If  my  belief  in  future  existence  was  a  dream,  &c 

666    At  the  fall :  In  Eden. 


320  THE     rOMPT.AT^T. 

Avert  thy  mirror  :  if  T  see.  I  die. 

'  Know  my  Creator  ?     Climb  his  blest  abode 
By  painful  speculation,  pierce  the  veil,  680 

Dive  in  his  nature,  road  his  attributes, 
And  gaze  in  admiration — on  a  foe, 
Obtruding  life,  withholding  happiness  ! 
From  the  full  rivers  that  surround  his  throne, 
Not  letting  fall  one  drop  of  joy  on  man  ;  685 

Man  gasping  for  one  drop,  that  he  might  cease 
To  curse  his  birth,  nor  envy  reptiles  more ! 
Ye  sable  clouds !     Ye  darkest  shades  of  night ! 
Hide  him,  for  ever  hide  him,  from  my  thought, 
Once  all  my  comfort ;  source,  and  soul  of  joy !  600 

Now  leagued  with  furies,  and  with  thee  'gainst  me. 

'  Know  his  achievements  !     Study  his  renown ! 
Contemplate  this  amazing  universe, 
Dropt  from  his  hand,  with  miracles  replete  ! 
For  what  ?     'Mid  miracles  of  nobler  name,  695 

To  find  one  miracle  of  misery  ? 
To  find  the  being,  which  alone  can  know 
And  praise  his  works,  a  blemish  on  his  praise  ? 
Through  nature's  ample  range,  in  thought  to  stroll, 
And  start  at  man,  the  single  mourner  there,  TOO 

Breathing  high  hope,  chain'd  down  to  pangs  and  death  } 

1  Knowing  is  suff  'ring ;  and  shall  virtue  share 
The  sigh  of  knowledge  ? — Virtue  shares  the  sigh, 
By  straining  up  the  steep  of  excellent, 

By  battles  fought,  and  from  temptation  won,  "705 

What  gains  she,  but  the  pang  of  seeing  worth, 
Angelic  worth,  soon  shuffled  in  the  dark 
With  ev'ry  vice,  and  swept  to  brutal  dust  ? 

67S.  Avert  thy  mirror :  Turn  away  the  mirror  you  hold  to  me  :  the  scheme 
of  annihilation.     Lorenzo  seems  to  be  addressed,  as  he  is  in   (fif)l). 

703.  Virtue  shares  the  si<*h:  Virtue,  like  knowledge,  causes  us   to  sigh,  if 
we  should  be  persuaded  that  annihilation  is  the  true  doctrine. 

704.  Excellent :  Excellence 


NIGHT    VII.  327 

Merit  is  madness  ;  virtue  is  a  crime; 

A  crime  to  reason,  if  it  costs  us  pain  710 

Unpaid.     What  pain,  amidst  a  thousand  more, 

To  think  the  most,  abandon'd,  after  days 

Of  triumph  o"er  their  betters,  find  in  death 

As  soft  a  pillow,  nor  made  fotiler  clay  ! 

'Duty  !  Religion  ! These,  our  duty  done,  71 6 

Imply  reward.     Religion  is  mistake. 

Duty ! There's  none,  but  to  repel  the  cheat. 

Ye  cheats,  away  !  ye  daughters  of  my  pride ! 

Who  feign  yourselves  the  fav'rites  of  the  skies  : 

Ye  tow'ring  hopes  !  abortive  energies  !  720 

That  toss  and  struggle  in  my  lying  breast, 

To  scale  the  skies,  and  build  presumptions  there, 

As  I  were  heir  of  an  eternity. 

Vain,  vain  ambitions  !  trouble  me  no  more. 

Why  travel  far  in  quest  of  sure  defeat?  725 

As  bounded  as  my  being,  be  my  wish. 

All  is  inverted,  wisdom  is  a  fool. 

Sense  !  take  the  rein  ;  blind  passion  !  drive  us  on; 

And  ignorance  !  befriend  us  on  our  way  ; 

Ye  new,  but  truest  patrons  of  our  peace  !  730 

Yes ;  give  the  pulse  full  empire ;  live  the  brute, 

Since  as  the  brute  we  die.     The  sum  of  man, 

Of  godlike  man  !  to  revel,  and  to  rot. 

'  But  not  on  equal  terms  with  other  brutes. 
Their  revels  a  more  poignant  relish  yield,  735 

And  safer  too  ;  they  never  poisons  choose. 
Instinct,  than  reason,  makes  more  wholesome  meals, 
And  sends  all-marring  murmur  far  away. 
For  sensual  life  they  best  philosophize  ; 

Theirs,  that  serene,  the  sages  sought  in  vain  :  740 

'Tis  man  alone  expostulates  with  Ileav'n  ; 
His,  all  the  pow'r,  and  all  the  cause,  to  mourn. 

71&     Virtue  is  a  crime :  It  is  wrong  to  be  at  the  pains  of  virtue,  for  the 
reason  afterwards  stated   (710-11). 


228  THE    COMrLAINT. 

Shall  human  eyes  alone  dissolve  in  tears  ? 

And  bleed,  in  anguish,  none  but  human  hearts  ? 

The  wide-stretch' d  realm  of  intellectual  wo,  745 

Surpassing  sensual  far,  is  all  our  own. 

In  life  so  fatally  distinguish'd,  why 

Cast  in  one  lot,  confounded,  lump'd,  in  death  ? 

'  Ere  yet  in  being,  was  mankind  in  guilt  ? 
Why  thunder'd  this  peculiar  clause  against  us,  7 50 

All-mortal,  and  all  wretched  ? — Have  the  skies 
Reasons  of  state  their  subjects  may  not  scan, 
Nor  humbly  reason,  when  they  sorely  sigh  ? 
All-mortal,  and  all-wretched  ! — 'Tis  too  much  ; 
Unparallel'd  in  nature  :  'tis  too  much,  755 

On  being  unrequested  at  thy  hands, 
Omnipotent !  for  I  see  nought  but  pow'r. 

'  And  why  see  that  ?     Why  thought  ?     To  toil  and  eat, 
Then  make  our  bed  in  darkness,  needs  no  thought. 
What  superfluities  are  reas'ning  souls  !  760 

Oh,  give  eternity !  or  thought  destroy  ! 
But  without  thought  our  curse  were  half  unfelt ; 
Its  blunted  edge  would  spare  the  throbbing  heart ; 
And,  therefore,  'tis  bestow'd.     I  thank  thee,  Reason, 
For  aiding  life's  too  small  calamities,  765 

And  giving  being  to  the  dread  of  death. 
Such  are  thy  bounties  ! — Was  it  then  too  much 
For  me  to  trespass  on  the  brutal  rights  ? 
Too  much  for  Heav'n  to  make  one  emmet  more  ? 
Too  much  for  chaos  to  permit  my  mass  770 

A  longer  stay  with  essences  unwrought, 
Unfashion'd,  untormented  into  man  ? 
Wretched  preferment  to  this  round  of  pains ! 
Wretched  capacity  of  frenzy,  thought ! 

Wretched  capacity  of  dying,  life  !  77 

Life,  thought,  worth,  wisdom,  all  (0  foul  revolt !) 
Once  friends  to  peace,  gone  over  to  the  foe. 


. 


NIGHT   VII.  329 


THE    HORRORS    OF    ANNIHILATION. 

'Death  then  has  changed  its  nature  too  :     <  >  death! 
Come  to  my  bosom,  thou  best  gift  of  Beav'n  ! 
Best  friend  of  man!  since  man  is  man  no  more.  780 

Why  in  this  thorny  wilderness  so  long, 
Since  there's  no  promised  laud's  ambrosial  bow'r, 
To  pay  me  with  its  honey  for  my  stings  ? 
If  needful  to  the  selfish  schemes  of  Heav'n 
To  sting  us  sore,  why  mock'd  our  misery?  785 

"Why  this  so  sumptuous  insult,  o'er  our  heads  ? 
Why  this  illustrious  canopy  display'd  ? 
Why  so  magnificently  lodged  despair  ? 
At  stated  periods,  sure-returning,  roll 

These  glorious  orbs,  that  mortals  may  compute  790 

Their  length  of  labours,  and  of  pains  ;  nor  lose 
Their  misery's  full  measure  ? — Smiles  with  flow'rs, 
And  fruits,  promiscuous,  ever-teeming  earth, 
That  man  may  languish  in  luxurious  scenes, 
And  in  an  Eden  mourns  his  wither'd  joys?  795 

Claim  earth  and  skies  man's  admiration,  due 
For  such  delights  ?  Blest  animals  !  too  wise 
To  wonder  ;  and  too  happy  to  complain  ! 

'  Our  doom  decreed  demands  a  mournful  scene  : 
Why  not  a  dungeon  dark,  for  the  condemn' d  ?  800 

Why  not  the  dragon's  subterranean  den, 
For  man  to  howl  in  ?     Why  not  his  abode 
Of  the  same  dismal  colour  with  his  fate  ? 
A  Thebes,  a  Babylon,  at  vast  expense 

B04.  Thebes — Babylon:  Once  splendid  cities  in  Egypt  and  Assyria,  con- 
taining magnificent  displays  of  human  art;  but  now  for  ages  lying  in  ruins, 
(he  abode  of  "'owls  and  adders." 

It  may  here  be  remarked  that  among  the  stronger  or  more  obvious  proofs 
of  the  divine  inspiration  of  the  Hebrew  prophets,  may  be  named  exact  ful- 
filment of  the  predictions  which  they  uttered  concerning  the  fall  of  Babylon 
and  other  cities,  which,  at  the  time,  seemed  destined  to  permanence  and  to 
increasing  glory.     'Jims  Isaiah  wrote  (ch.  13  :  19—22),  "and  Baby  lot,  the 


330  THE    COMPLAINT. 

Of  time,  toil,  treasure,  art,  for  owls  and  adders,  805 

As  congruous,  as  for  man  this  lofty  dome, 

"Which  prompts  proud  thought,  and  kindles  high  desire; 

If,  from  her  humble  chamber  in  the  dust, 

While  proud  thought  swells,  and  high  desire  inflames, 

The  poor  worm  calls  us  for  her  inmates  there  ;  610 

And,  round  us,  death's  inexorable  hand 

Draws  the  dark  curtain  close ;  undrawn  no  more. 

'  Undrawn  no  more  ! — Behind  the  cloud  of  death, 
Once  I  beheld  a  sun  ;  a  sun  which  gilt 

That  sable  cloud,  and  turn'd  it  all  to  gold.  815 

How  the  grave's  alter'd  !     Fathomless  as  hell  ! 
A  real  hell  to  those  who  dreamt  of  heav'n. 
Annihilation  !  how  it  yawns  before  me  ! 
Next  moment  I  may  drop  from  thought,  from  sense, 
The  privilege  of  angels,  and  of  worms,  820 

An  outcast  from  existence  !  and  this  spirit, 
This  all-pervading,  this  all-conscious  soul, 
This  particle  of  energy  divine, 
Which  travels  nature,  flies  from  star  to  star, 
And  visits  gods,  and  emulates  their  pow'rs,  825 

For  ever  is  extinguish'd.     Hon-or !  death  ! 
Death  of  that  death  I  fearless  once  survey'd ! — 
"When  horror  universal  shall  descend, 

glory  of  kingdoms,  the  beauty  of  the  Chaldees'  excellency,  shall  be  as  when 
God  overthrew  Sodom  and  Gomorrha.  It  shall  never  be  inhabited,  neither 
6hall  it  be  dwelt  in  from  generation  to  generation,  &c.  :  but  wild  beasts  of 
the  desert  shall  lie  there;  and  their  houses  shall  be  full  of  doleful  creatures; 
and  owls  shall  dwell  there,  and  satyrs  shall  dance  there,  &c  ,  and  dragons 
(serpents)  in  their  pleasant  palaces,  &c.'' 

As  to  Thebes,.  Ezekiel  and  Jeremiah  speak  of  it  under  the  name  No, 
Ezek.  xxx.  14 — 16  :  xxix.  14,  15.  Jer.  xlvi.  25.  Speaking  of  the  ruins  of 
this  Egyptian  city,  Dr.  Robinson  says,  "It  is  impossible  to  wander  among 
these  scenes,  and  behold  these  hoary  yet  magnificent  ruins  without  emo- 
tions of  astonishment  and  deep  solemnity.  Everything  around  testifies  of 
vastness  and  of  utter  desolation." — Bib.  Researches,  i.  29. 

825.   Gods:  Angelic  beings. 


NIGHT    VII.  331 

Arid  heav'n's  dark  concave  urn  all  human  race, 

On  that  enormous,  univfur.ding  tomb,  830 

How  just  this  v-.ix-  !  this  monumental  -  _ 

Beneath  the  lumber  of  demolished  worlds, 
Deep  in  the  rubbish  of  the  general  wreck, 
Swept  igj  'o  the  common  mass 

Of  matter,  never  835 

Here  lie  proud  rationals  ;    the  sons  of  Hcai'a  ! 
The  lords  rf  tarth !   the  property  rf  worms! 
Beings  i  f  ty,  and  no  to-morrow  ! 

Wlio  lir'd  in  ft  rror,  and  in  pangs  expired  ! 
All  gone  to  rot  in  chaos  ;  or,  to  make  840 

Their  happy  transit  into  blocks  or  brutes, 
N(  /•  longer  sully  their  Creator's  name. 

Lorenzo  !  hear,  pause,  wonder,  and  prouounce. 
Just  is  this  history  :     K  such  is  man, 

Mankind's  historian,  though  divine,  might  weep.  84c 

And  dares  Lorenzo  smile  \ — I  know  thee  proud : 
For  once  let  pride  befriend  thee :  pride  looks  pale 
At  such  a  scene,  and  sighs  for  something  more. 
Amid  thy  boasts  presumptions,  and  displays. 
And  art  thou  then  a  shadow  {  less  than  shade  ?  850 

And  nothing  r  less  than  nothing  ?     To  have  been, 

1  not  to  be.  is  lower  than  unborn. 
An  thou  ambitious  .'     Why  then  make  the  worm 
Thine  equal '     Runs  thy  taste  of  pleasure  liigh  '{ 
Why  patronize  sure  death  of  e-v'ry  855 

Charm  riches  .•     "Why  choos        .  .       in  the  grave. 
Of  ev'ry  hope  a  bankrupt '  and  for  ever  ''. 
Ambition,  pleasure,  avarice,  persuade  thee 

829    Vm.  &c.  :  Enclose  in  an  urn  the  dead  remains  of  all   the  numan 
race. 

830.   Unrefunding  tomb  :  Not  giving  back  its  dead. 

dote  ''  I'ss  than  shade :  Shadoic  and  shade  are  here  used  as  syno- 
nymous,  this  being  evident  from  the  next  line. 


3&2  THE    COMPLAINT. 

To  make  that  world  of  glory,  rapture,  wealth, 

They  lately  proved  thy  soul's  supreme  desire.  860 

What  art  thou  made  of?     Rather  how  unmade? 
Great  Nature's  master-appetite  destroy'd  ! 
Is  endless  life,  and  happiness,  despised  ? 
Or  hoth  wish'd,  here,  where  neither  can  be  found  ? 
Such  man's  perverse  eternal  war  with  Heav'n  !  865 

Darest  thou  persist  ?     And  is  there  nought  on  earth, 
But  a  long  train  of  transitory  forms, 
Rising,  and  breaking,  millions  in  an  hour  ? 
Bubbles  of  a  fantastic  deity,  blown  up 

In  sport,  and  then  in  cruelty  destroy'd?  870 

Oh  !  for  what  crime,  unmerciful  Lorenzo  ! 
Destroys  thy  scheme  the  whole  of  human  race  ? 
Kind  is  fell  Lucifer,  compared  to  thee  : 
Oh !  spare  this  waste  of  being  half  divine ; 
And  vindicate  th'  economy  of  Heav'n.  8*75 

Heav'n  is  all  love ;  all  joy  in  giving  joy ; 
It  never  had  created,  but  to  bless  : 
And  shall  it,  then,  strike  off  the  list  of  life, 
A  being  blest,  or  worthy  so  to  be  ? 
Heav'n  starts  at  an  annihilating  God.  880 

THE    SCHEME    OF    ANNIHILATION,    A    WICKED    INVENTION. 

Is  that,  all  nature  starts  at,  thy  desire  ? 
Art  such  a  clod  to  wish  thyself  all  clay  ? 
What  is  that  dreadful  wish  ? — The  dying  groan 
Of  nature,  murder'd  by  the  blackest  guilt. 
What  deadly  poison  has  thy  nature  drank  ?  885 

860.  Lately  proved :  The  discussions  in  Night  VI.  are  referred  to.  In  some 
editions,  this  line  runs  thus:  " They  lately  proved  the  soul's  supreme  de- 
sire." The  former  reading  is  preferable.  Ambition,  &c.  (S58) ,  persuade 
thee  to  make  that  world  of  glory,  &c,  the  existence  of  which  they  proved,  the 
object  of  thy  supreme  desire. 

862.  Master-appetite:  The  appe lite  for  immortality. 

882.  Art  thou  such,  &c. 


NIGHT    VII.  8: 13 

To  nature  undebauch'd  no  shock  so  great; 

Nature's  first  wish  is  endless  happiness ; 

Annihilation  is  an  after-thought, 

A  monstrous  wish,  unborn  till  virtue  dies. 

And.  oh  !  what  depth  of  horror  lies  enclosed!  800 

For  non-existence  no  man  ever  wish'd, 

But,  first,  he  wish'd  the  Deity  destroy'd. 

If  so,  what  words  are  dark  enough  to  draw 
Thy  picture  true  ?     The  darkest  are  too  fair. 
Beneath  what  baneful  planet,  in  what  hour  895 

Of  desperation,  by  what  fury's  aid, 
In  what  infernal  posture  of  the  soul, 
All  hell  invited,  and  all  hell  in  joy 
At  such  a  birth,  a  birth  so  near  of  kin, 

Did  thy  foul  fancy  whelp  so  foul  a  scheme  900 

Of  hopes  abortive,  faculties  half  blown, 
And  deities  begun,  reduc'd  to  dust  \ 

There's  nought,  (thou  say'st,)  but  one  eternal  flux 
Of  feeble  essences,  tumultuous  driven 

Through  time's  rough  billows  into  night's  abyss.  905 

Say,  in  this  rapid  tide  of  human  ruin, 
Is  there  no  rock,  on  which  man's  tossing  thought 
Can  rest  from  terror,  dare  his  fate  survey, 
And  boldly  think  it  something  to  be  born  ? 
Amid  such  hourly  wrecks  of  being  fair,  910 

Is  th^ere  no  central  all-sustaining  base, 
All-realizing,  all-connecting  pow'r, 
Which,  as  it  call'd  forth  all  things,  can  recall, 
And  force  destruction  to  refund  her  spoil  I 
Command  the  grave  restore  her  taken  prey  ?  915 

Bid  death's  dark  vale  its  human  harvest  yield, 
And  earth,  and  ocean,  pay  their  debt  of  man, 
True  to  the  grand  deposit  trusted  there  ? 
Is  there  no  potentate,  whose  outstretch'd  arm, 
When  rip'ning  time  calls  forth  th'  appointed  hour,  920 

Pluck'd  from  foul  devastation's  famish'd  maw, 
Binds  present,  past,  and  future,  to  his  throne  ? 


,"";  3  4  -        THE    COMPLAINT. 

His  throne,  how  glorious,  thus  divinely  graced, 
By  germinating  beings  clust'ring  round ! 

A.  garland  worthy  the  Divinity  !  925 

'    A  throne,  by  HeavVs  omnipotence  in  smiles, 
Built  (like  a  Pharos  tow'ring  in  the  waves) 
Amidst  immense  effusions  of  his  love ! 
An  ocean  of  communicated  bliss  ! 

AN    ALL-PRESERVING    CONTRASTED    WITH    AN    ANNIHILATING   GOD. 

An  all-prolific,  all-preserving  God!  930 

This  were  a  God  indeed. — x\nd  such  is  man, 
As  here  presumed :  he  rises  from  his  fall. 
Think'st  thou  Omnipotence  a  naked  root, 
Each  blossom  fair  of  Deity  destroy'd  ? 

Nothing  is  dead;  nay,  nothing  sleeps  :  each  soul,  935 

That  ever  animated  human  clay, 
Now  wakes ;  is  on  the  wing  ;  and  where,  0  where, 
Will  the  swarm  settle  ? — When  the  trumpet's  call, 
As  sounding  brass,  collects  us  round  HeavVs  throne 
Conglobed,  we  bask  in  everlasting  day,  940 

(Paternal  splendour  !)  and  adhere  forever. 
Had  not  the  soul  this  outlet  to  the  skies, 
In  this  vast  vessel  of  the  universe, 
How  should  we  gasp,  as  in  an  empty  void  ! 

927.  Pharos :  A  small  island  in  the  Bay  of  Alexandria,  upon  which  was 
built,  in  the  reign  of  Ptolemy  Philadelphia,  a  celebrated  tower,  to  serve  as 
a  light-house.  This  tower,  built  of  white  marble,  was  visible  at  a  great  dis- 
tance, and  was  regarded  as  one  of  the  seven  wonders  of  the  world  by  the 
ancients.  It  had  several  stories,  raised  one  above  another,  adorned  with 
columns,  balustrades;,  and  galleries,  of  the  finest  marble  and  workmanship. 
On  the  top,  fires  were  lighted  in  I  he  night  season,  to  direct  sailors  in  the 
Bay,  which  was  dangerous  and  difficult  of  access.  The  term  Pharos  is 
traced  to  a  Greek  word  signifying  to  shine  or  be  bright. — Anthorfs  Class.  D. 

938.  Swarm :  An  allusion  to  a  swarm  of  bees,  to  indicate  a  vast  multitude. 
The  allusion  is  continued  in  the  next  line,  where  the  mode  of  collecting 
bees  is  referred  to. 

940.  Conglobed:  Brought  into  a  round  mass  or  multitude.  This  is  a 
favourite  term  of  Milton. 


xif;Hr   vil.  VJo 

How  in  the  pangs  of  femish'd  hope  expite!  945 

How  bright  iny  prospect  shines  !  how  gloomy,  thine  \ 
A  trembling  world !  and  a  devouring  God  ! 
Earth,  but  the  shambles  of  Omnipotence  ! 
Heav'n's  face  all  sttuifd  with  causeless  massacres 
Of  countless  millions,  born  to  feel  the  pang  950 

Of  being  lost.     Lorenzo  !  can  it  be  ? 
This  bids  us  shudder  at  the  thoughts  of  life. 
"Who  would  be  born  to  such  a  phantom  world, 
Where  nought  substantial,  but  our  misery  \ 
"Where  joy  (if  joy)  but  heightens  our  distress,  955 

So  soon  to  perish,  and  revive  no  more  ? 
The  greater  such  a  joy,  the  more  it  pains. 
A  world,  so  far  from  great  (and  yet  how  great 
It  shines  to  thee  !)  there's  nothing  real  in  it ; 
Being,  a  shadow  !  consciousness,  a  dream  !  960 

A  dream,  how  dreadful !     Universal  blank 
Before  it,  and  behind  !     Poor  man,  a  spark 
From  non-existence  struck  by  wrath  divine; 
Glitt'ring  a  moment,  nor  that  moment  sure  ; 
'Midst  upper,  nether,  and  surrounding  night,  965 

His  sad,  sure,  sudden,  and  eternal  tomb  ! 

Lorenzo,  dost  thou  feel  these  arguments  ? 
Or  is  there  nought  but  vengeance  can  be  felt  ? 
How  hast  thou  dared  the  Deity  dethrone  ? 
HowT  dared  indict  him  of  a  world  like  this?  970 

If  such  the  world,  creation  was  a  crime  ; 
For  what  is  crime,  but  cause  of  misery  ? 
Retract,  blasphemer  !  and  unriddle  this, 

948.   Shambles :  Butcher's  stall  or  shop. 

9.r>3-4.  Where  nought,  &c  :  These  lines  have  been  quoted  by  Dr.  Aikin, 
as  an  example  of  Young's  gloomy  misrepresentation  of  this  world.  But  he 
overlooked  the  connection  in  which  they  stand.  Thev  describe  this  world 
as  it  would  be,  if  the  scheme  of  annihilation,  adopted  by  Lorenzo,  were 
true. 

970.  Indict  him  of  a  world.  &c. :  Charge  him  with  the  crime  of  creating  a 
woild  like  this. 


330  THE    COMPLAINT. 

Of  endless  arguments,  above,  below. 

"Without  us,  and  within,  the  short  result —  975 

'If  man's  immortal,  there's  a  God  in  heav'n.' 

But  wherefore  such  redundancy  ?  such  waste 
Of  argument  ?     One  sets  my  soul  at  rest ! 
One  obvious,  and  at  hand,  and,  oh  ! — at  heart. 
So  just  the  skies,  Philander's  life  so  pain'd,  980 

His  heart  so  pure  ;  that,  or  succeeding  scenes 
Have  palms  to  give,  or  ne'er  had  he  been  bora. 

'  What  an  old  tale  is  this  !'  Lorenzo  cries. 
I  grant  this  argument  is  old  ;  but  truth 

No  years  impair  :  and  had  not  this  been  true,  985 

Thou  never  hadst  despised  it  for  its  age. 
Truth  is  immortal  as  thy  soul ;  and  fable 
As  fleeting  as  thy  joys.     Be  wise,  nor  make 
Heav'n's  highest  blessing,  vengeance ;  0  be  wise  ? 
Nor  make  a  curse  of  immortality.  990 

THE  IMPORTANCE  OF  A  SOUL  IMMORTAL 

Say,  know'st  thou  what  it  is,  or  what  thou  art  ? 
Know'st  thou  th'  importance  of  a  soul  immortal  ? 
Behold  this  midnight  glory ;  worlds  on  worlds  ! 
Amazing  pomp  !     Redouble  this  amaze  ; 
Ten  thousand  add  ;  and  twice  ten  thousand  more  ;  995 

Then  weigh  the  whole  :  one  soul  outweighs  them  all ; 
And  calls  th'  astonishing  magnificence 
Of  unintelligent  creation  poor. 
For  this,  believe  not  me ;  no  man  believe : 
Trust  not  in  words,  but  deeds;  and  deeds  no  less  1000 

Than  those  of  the  Supreme  ;  nor  his,  a  few ; 
Consult  them  all ;  consulted,  all  proclaim 
Thy  soul's  importance.     Tremble  at  thyself; 
For  whom  Omnipotence  has  waked  so  long  : 
Has  waked,  and  work'd  for  ages  ;  from  the  birth  1005 

978.  One:  One  argument.  The  justice  of  God  in  awarding  to  Philander, 
who  passed  a  life  of  purity,  yet  of  extreme  suffering,  here,  some  future  ex- 
istence of  a  different  character. 


NIGHT    VII. 


837 


Of  nature  to  this  unbelieving  hour. 

In  this  small  province  of  His  vast  domain, 
(All  nature  bow,  while  I  pronounce  His  name !) 
"What  has  God  done,  and  not  for  this  sole  end, 
To  rescue  souls  from  death  ?  the  soul's  high  price  1010 

Is  writ  in  all  the  conduct  of  the  skies. 
The  soul's  high  price  is  the  creation's  key, 
Unlocks  its  mysteries,  and  naked  lays 
The  genuine  cause  of  ev'ry  deed  divine : 

That  is  the  chain  of  ages,  which  maintains  1015 

Their  obvious  correspondence,  and  unites 
Most  distant  periods  in  one  blest  design : 
That  is  the  mighty  hinge,  on  which  have  turn'd 
All  revolutions,  whether  we  regard 

The  nat'ral,  civil,  or  religious  world  ;  1020 

The  former  two  but  servants  to  the  third : 
To  that  their  duty  done,  they  both  expire ; 
Their  mass  new-cast,  forgot  their  deeds  renown'd ; 
And  angels  ask,  '  Where  once  they  shone  so  fair  ?' 

To  lift  us  from  this  abject,  to  sublime ;  1025 

This  flux,  to  permanent ;  this  dark,  to  day ;  tr% 

This  foul,  to  pure ;  this  turbid,  to  serene ; 
This  mean,  to  mighty ! — for  this  glorious  end 
Th'  Almighty,  rising,  his  long  sabbath  broke ! 
The  world  was  made ;  was  ruined  ;  was  restored  ;  1030 

Laws  from  the  skies  were  publish'd  ;  were  repeal'd ; 

1020-1.  A  truth  of  great  consequence,  and  too  little  regarded  by  secular 
Historians.  Edwards'  ':  History  of  Redemption"  may  be  read  as  an  admir- 
able commentary  on  these  two  lines. 

1025-28.  In  these  lines  adjectives  are  used  frequently  without  an  appro- 
priate substantive  :  an  idiom  common  to  poets,  and  not  to  be  found  fault 
with,  because  it  is  suited  to  make  a  deeper  impression,  and  yet  is  not  dif- 
ficult to  understand. 

1029.  Sabbath:  Rest. 

1030.  Was  ruin'd:  By  the  Deluge. 

103i.  Laivs  were  publish' d :  On  Mount  Sinai.   Were  repeat- 'd :  At  the  period 
of  the  death  and  resurrection  of  Christ,  when  the  Jewish  economy  had  fnl- 
15 


338  THE    COMPLAINT. 

On  earth,  kings,  kingdoms,  rose  ;  kings,  kingdoms,  fell ; 
Famed  pages  lighted  up  the  pagan  world ; 
Prophets  from  Sion  darted  a  keen  glance 
Thro' distant  age  ;  saints  travell'd  ;  martyrs  bled  ;  1035 

By  wonders  sacred  nature  stood  controll'd ; 
The  living  were  translated ;  dead  were  raised  ; 
Angels,  and  more  than  angels,  came  from  heav'n  ; 
And,  oh  !  for  this,  descended  lower  still  ? 
Gilt  was  hell's  gloom  ;  astonish'd  at  his  guest  1040 

For  one  short  moment  Lucifer  adored  : 
Lorenzo !  and  wilt  thou  do  less  ? — For  this, 
That  hallow'd  page,  fools  scoff  at,  was  inspired, 
Of  all  these  truths  thrice-venerable  code ! 
*      Deists!  perform  your  quarantine ;  and  then  1045 

Fall  prostrate  ere  you  touch  it,  lest  you  die. 

Not  less  intensely  bent  infernal  pow'rs 
To  mar,  than  those  of  light,  this  end  to  gain. 
O  what  a  scene  is  here  ! — Lorenzo,  wake  ! 
Rise  to  the  thought;  exert,  expand  thy  soul  1050 

filled  its  temporary  purpose,  and  Christianity,  suited  to  universal  adoption, 
was  established. 

1037.  Translated:  As  Enoch  and  Elijah. 

1038.  More  than  angels :  The  Son  of  God. 

1040.  Gilt  icas  hell's  gloom:  Gilded  was  the  gloom  of  the  grave.  The 
word  hell  is  sometimes  used  in  this  sense ;  as  where  it  is  said,  "  Thou  wilt 
not  leave  my  soul  in  hell,  nor  suffer  thine  Holy  One  to  see  corruption."' 

1041.  Lucifer  adored :  An  allusion  to  a  highly  poetic  passage  in  the  pro- 
phecy of  Isaiah,  chap.  xiv.  Jldord,  wondered,  was  awed.  Consult  espe- 
cially verses  9,  10.  Isaiah  applies  the  language  of  that  prophecy  to  Lucifer, 
the  king  of  Babylon ;  but  here  our  author,  by  a  bold  conception,  represents 
even  Lucifer  as  paying  the  homage  of  astonishment  at  the  entrance  of  so 
distinguished  a  being  as  Jesus  Christ,  God  incarnate,  into  the  state  of  the 
dead,  and  of  the  entombed. 

10-15.  Perform  your  quarantine :  Purify  yourselves  from  the  infection  of 
your  corrupt  principles.  Touch  it:  An  allusion  to  the  ark  of  God  which 
LTzza  touched,  and  for  the  offence  was  instantly  slain  by  Jehovah,  1  Chron. 
xiii.  9,  10.  He  had  transgressed  the  solemn  command  in  Numb.  iv.  15: 
"They  shall  not  touch  any  holy  thing;  lost  they  Hie.'' 


NIGHT    VII.  339 

To  take  the  vast  idea !  it  denies 

All  else  the  name  of  great.     Two  warring  worlds ! 

Not  Europe  against  Afric  ;  warring  worlds, 

Of  more  than  mortal !  mounted  on  the  wing ! 

On  ardent  wings  of  energy  and  zeal,  1055 

High-hov'ring  o'er  this  little  brand  of  strife  ! 

This  sublunary  ball — But  strife,  for  what  ? 

In  their  own  cause  conflicting  ?     No  ;  in  thine, 

In  man's.     His  single  int'rest  blows  the  flame ; 

His  the  sole  stake  ;  his  fate  the  trumpet  sounds,  1060 

"Which  kindles  war  immortal.     How  it  bums  ! 

Tumultuous  swarms  of  deities  in  arms  ! 

Force,  force  opposing,  till  the  waves  run  high, 

And  tempest  nature's  universal  sphere. 

Such  opposites  eternal,  steadfast,  stern,  1065 

Such  foes  implacable,  are  Good  and  111 ; 

Yet  man,  vain  man,  would  mediate  peace  between  them. 

Think  not  this  fiction  :  '  There  was  war  in  heav'n.' 
From  heav'n's  high  crystal  mountain,  where  it  hung, 
Th'  Almighty's  outstretch'd  arm  took  down  his  bow,         1070 
And  shot  his  indignation  at  the  deep  : 
Ee-thunder'd  hell,  and  darted  all  her  fire.s. — 
And  seems  the  stake  of  little  moment  still  ? 
And  slumbers  man,  who  singly  caused  the  storm  ? 
He  sleeps. — And  art  thou  shock'd  at  mysteries?  1075 

The  greatest,  thou.     How  dreadful  to  reflect, 
What  ardour,  care,  and  counsel,  mortals  cause 

1068.  War  in  hcav'n:  Quoted  from  Rev.  xii.  7.  The  great  historian  of 
that  war  is  Milton,  in  his  Paradise  Lost.  As  a  sample  of  the  style  of  his 
highly  poetic  narrative,  take  this  from  the  First  Book  : 

And  with  ambitions  aim 
Against  the  throne  and  monarchy  of  God, 
Raised  impious  'war  in  heav'n  and  battle  prond 
With  vain  attempt     Ilim  the  Almighty  Power 
Ilnrl'd  headlong  flaming  from  th'  ethereal  sky, 
With  hideons  ruin  and  combustion,  down 
To  bottomless  perdition  ;  there  to  dwell 
In  adamantine  chains  and  penal  fire, 
Who  durst  defy  th*  Omnipotent  to  amn. 


340  THE    COMPLAINT. 

In  breasts  divine  !     How  little  in  their  own ! 

Where'er  I  turn,  how  new  proofs  pour  upon  me  ? 
IIow  happily  this  wondrous  view  supports  1080 

My  former  argument !     How  strongly  strikes 
Immortal  life's  full  demonstration  here  ! 
Why  this  exertion  ?     Why  this  strauge  regard 
From  heav'n's  Omnipotent  indulged  to  man  ? — 
Because,  in  man,  the  glorious,  dreadful  pow'r,  1085 

Extremely  to  he  pain'd,  or  blest,  for  ever. 
Duration  gives  importance;  swells  the  price. 
An  angel,  if  a  creature  of  a  day, 
What  would  he  be  ?     A  trifle  of  no  weight ; 
Or  stand,  or  fall;  no  matter  which  ;  he's  gone.  1090 

Because  immortal,  therefore  is  indulg'd 
This  strange  regard  of  deities  to  dust. 
Hence,  heav'n  looks  down  on  earth  with  all  her  eyes : 
Hence,  the  soul's  mighty  moment  in  her  sight : 
Hence  ev'ry  soul  has  partisans  above,  1095 

And  ev'ry  thought  a  critic  in  the  skies  : 
Hence,  clay,  vile  clay  !  has  angels  for  its  guard, 
And  ev'ry  guard  a  passion  for  his  charge : 
Hence,  from  all  age,  the  cabinet  divine 
Has  held  high  counsel  o'er  the  fate  of  man.  1100 

Nor  have  the  clouds  those  gracious  counsels  hid. 
Angels  undrew  the  curtain  of  the  throne, 
And  Providence  came  forth  to  meet  mankind : 
In  various  modes  of  emphasis  and  awe, 

He  spoke  his  will,  and  trembling  nature  heard  :  1105 

He  spoke  it  loud,  in  thunder  and  in  storm. 
Witness,  thou  Sinai !  whose  cloud-cover'd  height, 
And  shaken  basis,  own'd  the  present  God : 
Witness,  ye  billows  !  whose  returning  tide, 


1090.  Or  stand,  or  fall :  Whether  he  stand  or  fall. 

1092.  Deities :  The  three  Persons  of  the  Deity,  Father,  Son,  and  Spirit 

1107.  Sinai:  Exod.  xix.  16,  18. 

1109.  Billou-s  :  Exod.  xiv.  7. 


. 


MGHT    V1L  o41 

Breaking  the  chain  that  fasten'd  it  in  air,  1110 

nd  her  menaces,  to  hell: 
"Witness,  ye  flames  !  th'  Assyrian  tyrant  blew 

as  impotent,  as  stror,  : 
And  thou,  ear  .  -se  expanding  jaws 

' :r  presumption's  sacrilegious  s  1115 

Has  not  each  element  in  turn  subscribed 

s  h  price,  and  sworn  it  to  the  wise  ? 
Has  not  flame,  ocean,  ether,  earthquake,  strove 
To  strike  this  truth  through  adamantine  man  ? 
If  not  all-adamant,  Lorenzo '.  hear :  1120 

All  is  delusion ;  nature  is  wrapt  up, 
In  tenfold  night,  from  reason's  keenest  ey  a : 
There's  r. :  pairing,  plan,  or  end, 

In  all  beneath  the  sun,  in  all  above, 

(As  far  as  man  can  penetrate)  or  heav'n  1125 

Is  an  immense,  inestimable  j : 
Or  all  is  nothing,  or  that  prize  is  alL — 
And  shall  each  toy  be  still  a  match  for  heav'n, 
And  full  equivalent  for  groans  below  ? 

"Who  would  not  give  a  trifle  to  prevent,  HSf 

"What  he  would  give  a  thousand  worlds  to  cure  ? 

DIFFICULTIES    OF   I^FIDELITr. 

Lorenzo,  thou  hast  seen  (if  thine  to 
All  nature,  and  her  God  (by  natures  course, 
And  nature's  course  control'd)  declare  for  m e  : 
The  skies  above  proclaim,  'Immortal  man  T  1135 

And,  '  Man  immortal  P  all  below  resounds. 
The  world's  a  system  of  the: . 
.    ad  by  the  s  the  schools : 

If  honest,  learn'd ;  and  sages  o'er  a  plough. 

1112.  Assyrian  tyrant :  See  Dan.  iii.  19. 
1115.   S  sons:  Xumb.  xvi.  32. 

1127.   Or  cJ.L  kc.  :  Either  a'.l.  Sec 
1129.   1  r.ell. 


342  THE    COMPLAINT. 

Is  not,  Lorenzo,  then,  imposed  on  thee  1140 

This  hard  alternative ;  or,  to  renounce 

Thy  reason,  and  thy  sense ;  or,  to  believe  ? 

What  then  is  unbelief?     'Tis  an  exploit; 

A.  strenuous  enterprise :  to  gain  it,  man 

Must  burst  through  ev'ry  bar  of  common  sense,  114  5 

Of  common  shame,  magnanimously  wrong. 

And  what  rewards  the  sturdy  combatant  ? 

His  prize,  repentance  ;  infamy,  his  crown. 

INFAMY    OF    INFIDELITY    AS   TO    A    FUTURE    LIFE. 

But  wherefore  infamy  ? — For  want  of  faith, 
Down  the  steep  precipice  of  wrong  he  slides  ;  1150 

There's  nothing  to  support  him  in  the  right. 
Faith  in  the  future  wanting,  is,  at  least 
In  embryo,  ev'ry  weakness,  ev'ry  guilt ; 
And  strong  temptation  ripens  it  to  birth. 
If  this  life's  gain  invites  him  to  the  deed,  1155 

Why  not  his  country  sold,  his  father  slain  ? 
'Tis  virtue  to  pursue  our  good  supreme ; 

1141.   Or  to  renounce :  Either  to  renounce. 

1157.  '  Tis  virtue,  &c. :  The  observations  made  in  this  connection  upon 
virtue,  may  be  compared  with  those  offered  in  the  early  part  of  this  Night, 
139 — 192,  238 — 250.  His  theory  of  virtue  is  not  to  our  taste,  though  plausi- 
ble. It  partakes  too  much  of  the  character  of  an  exalted,  far-seeing,  pru- 
dent, intellectual,  and  enlightened  selfishness.  While  the  pursuit  of  our 
supreme  good  is  consistent  with  virtue,  and  inseparable  from  it,  that  is  not  the 
whole  of  virtue,  nor  its  just  definition.  The  sentiment  offered  (1174-5)  is 
one  of  very  questionable  correctness.  While  virtue  credits,  and  pays  all 
due  deference  and  regard  to  the  rewards  ami  punishments  of  the  Divine  gov- 
ernment, the  author  seems  to  teach  that  these  rewards  and  punishments 
form  the  only  basis  of  the  adoration  which  a  virtuous  man  pays  to  the  Deity. 
A  most  extraordinary  statement !  It  has  usually  been  inculcated  by  sound 
divines,  that  the  perfections  of  the  Deity  are  the  primary  grounds  of  adora- 
tion, love,  and  obedience,  while  the  rewards  and  punishments  have  an  alto- 
gether subordinate,  yet  very  important  influence. 

Neither  is  it  true  that  "  hopes  and  fears  give  conscience  all  her  power." 
fhe   man    who   is   affected   by  these   considerations   exclusively,  or  even 


HIGH?    VII.  343 

And  his  supreme,  his  only  good,  is  here. 

Ambition,  av'rice,  by  the  wise  disdain'd, 

Is  perfect  wisdom,  while  mankind  are  fools,  11  GO 

And  think  a  turf,  or  tomb-stone,  covers  all : 

These  find  employment,  and  provide  for  sense 

A  richer  pasture,  and  a  larger  range ; 

And  sense  by  right  divine  ascends  the  throne, 

When  virtue's  prize  and  prospect  are  no  more;  HGf> 

Virtue  no  more  we  think  the  will  of  Heav'n. 

AYould  Heav'n  quite  beggar  virtue,  if  belov'd  ? 

'  Has  virtue  charms  V — I  grant  her  heav'nly  fair  ; 
But  if  unportion'd,  all  will  int'rest  wed ; 

Though  that  our  admiration,  this  our  choice.  11 70 

The  virtues  grow  on  immortality  ; 
That  root  destroy'd,  they  wither  and  expire. 
A  Deity  believ'd,  will  nought  avail ; 
Rewards  and  punishments  make  God  ador'd, 
And  hopes  and  fears  give  conscience  all  her  pow'r.  1175 

As  in  the  dying  parent  dies  the  child, 

chiefly,  in  his  moral  conduct,  if  he  can  lay  claim  to  virtue  at  all,  must  be 
content  'with  the  credit  of  a  very  mean  and  mercenary  sort  of  virtue.  He 
places  his  own  private  interest  above  right — above  what  is  fit,  and  proper, 
and  becoming  in  itself,  and  in  the  relations  he  sustains  to  other  beings.  His 
respect  for  God  is  simply  equivalent  to  respect  for  himself,  adoring  God 
only,  or  chiefly,  because  he  can  make  us  happy  or  miserable,  and  following 
the  impulse  of  hope  and  fear  as  the  most  excellent  powers  of  his  immortal 
nature. 

Neither  does  it  seem  perfectly  clear  to  us  that  virtue  cannot,  and  especially 
ought  not  to  exist,  as  the  author  teaches,  if  immortality  were  not  the  future 
portion  of  man.  Virtue  is  due  from  man  to  his  Creator,  and  from  man  to 
his  fellow,  on  the  ground  of  the  mutual  relations  which  they  sustain,  and 
not  on  the  ground  of  the  precise  duration  of  man's  existence.  If  a  man 
should  exist  but  a  hundred  years,  or  for  a  shorter  period,  as  soon  as  his 
powers  are  sufficiently  developed  to  make  him  an  accountable  creature,  he 
is  bound  to  love  God  with  all  his  heart,  and  his  neighbour  as  himself— and 
this  is  virtue — irrespective  of  the  duration  of  his  being. 

There  is  no  doubt,  however,  that  the  sanctions  of  immortality  serve 
greatly  to  assist  and  invigorate  all  moral  feelings  and  purposes  of  a  right 
character,  and  to  discourage  the  reverse,  and  hence  they  occupy  a  prominent 
place  on  the  pages  of  Divine  Revelation. 


844  THE    COMPLAINT. 

Virtue,  with  immortality,  expires. 

Who  tells  me  he  denies  his  soul  immortal, 

Whate'er  his  boast,  has  told  me,  he's  a  knave. 

His  duty  'tis,  to  love  himself  alone  ;  1180 

Nor  care,  though  mankind  perish,  if  he  smiles. 

Who  thinks  ere  long  the  man  shall  wholly  die, 

Is  dead  already  ;  nought  hut  brute  survives. 

THE    CAUSE    OF    INFIDELITY. 

And  are  there  such  ? — Such  candidates  there  are 
For  more  than  death  :  for  utter  loss  of  being ;  1185 

Being,  the  basis  of  the  Deity ! 
Ask  you  the  cause  ? — The  cause  they  will  not  tell ; 
Nor  need  they :  Oh,  the  sorceries  of  sense  ! 
They  work  this  transformation  on  the  soul, 
Dismount  her,  like  the  serpent  at  the  fall,  1190 

Dismount  her  from  her  native  wing  (which  soar'd 
Erewhile  ethereal  heights)  and  throw  her  down, 
To  lick  the  dust,  and  crawl  in  such  a  thought. 

THE    CHARACTER    OF    AN    INFIDEL    STATE. 

Is  it  in  words  to  paint  you  ?     O  ye  fall'n ! 
Fall'n  from  the  wings  of  reason,  and  of  hope  !  1195 

Erect  in  stature,  prone  in  appetite  ! 

1188.  Ok,  the-  sorceries  of  sense:  An  allusion  to  the  transformation  said  to 
be  made  by  Circe  upon  those  who  put  themselves  in  her  power,  and  which 
has  been  explained  in  a  former  note.  In  plain  language  it  may  be  rendered : 
Oh  the  degrading  deception  practised,  and  change  performed,  by  a  too  exclu- 
sive indulgence  in  the  gratifications  of  sense  ! 

1190.  Dismount  her  :  Degrade  the  soul.  In  the  next  line  the  meaning  of 
the  verb  is  somewhat  varied  :  Cause  her  to  descend  from  the  elevation  of  her 
native  wing. 

1196.  Prone  in  appetite:  It  is  mentioned  of  a  friend  of  Charles  I.,  in  the 
civil  war  of  the  Parliament,  that  he  had  made  up  his  mind  to  take  horse 
and  join  the  royal  party,  but  for  one  circumstance — that  he  could  not  recon- 
cile himseif  to  the  thought  of  being  an  hour  or  two  less  in  bed  than  he  had 
been  accustomed  in   his  quiet  home ;  and  he  therefore,  alter  duly  reflecting 


NIGHT    VII.  845 

Patrons  of  pleasure,  posting  into  pain  ! 

Lovers  of  argument,  averse  to  sense ! 

Boasters  of  liberty,  fast  bound  in  chains  ! 

Lords  of  the  wide  creation,  and  the  shame !  1200 

More  senseless  than  th'  irrationals  you  scorn  ! 

More  base  than  those  you  rule !  than  those  you  pity, 

Far  more  undone  !     0  ye  most  infamous 

Of  beings,  froin  superior  dignity  ! 

Deepest  in  wo  from  means  of  boundless  bliss!  1205 

Ye  curst  by  blessings  infinite  !  because 

Most  highly  favoured,  most  profoundly  lost ! 

Ye  motley  mass  of  contradiction  strong ! 

And  are  you,  too,  convinced,  your  souk  fly  off 

In  exhalation  soft,  and  die  in  air,  1210 

From  the  full  flood  of  evidence  against  you  ? 

In  the  coarse  drudgeries  and  sinks  of  sense, 

Your  souls  have  quite  worn  out  the  make  of  heav'n, 

By  vice  new-cast,  and  creatures  of  your  own : 

But  though  you  can  deform,  you  can't  destroy  ;  1215 

To  curse,  not  uncreate,  is  all  your  power. 

TRUE    FREE-THINKING    DEFINED. 

Lorenzo,  this  black  brotherhood  renounce  ; 
Renounce  St.  Evremont  and  read  St.  Paul. 

on  the  impossibility  of  being  both  a  good  subject  and  a  good  sleeper,  con- 
tented himself  with  remaining  to  enjoy  his  repose.  Absurd  as  such  an 
anecdote  may  seem,  it  states  only  what  passes  innumerable  times  through 
the  silent  heart  of  every  voluptuary,  in  similar  comparisons  of  the  most  im- 
portant duties  with  the  most  petty,  base,  habitual  pleasures.  How  many  more 
virtuous  actions  would  have  been  performed  on  earth,  if  the  performance  of 
them  had  not  been  inconsistent  with  enjoyments  as  insignificant  in  them- 
selves as  an  hour  of  unnecessary,  and  perhaps  hurtful  slumber! — Brown  $ 
Phil,  of  the  Mind,  III.  557- 

119S.  Sense:  Sound  sense,  reason. 

1204.  From  superior  dignity:  In  consequence  of  it.     From,  in  the  next 
line,  has  the  same  meaning. 

1218.   St.  Evremont:  An  infidel  writer. 
15* 


346  THE    COMPLAINT, 

Ere  wrapt  by  miracle,  by  reason  wing'd, 

His  mounting  mind  made  long  abode  in  heav'n.  1220 

This  is  free  thinking,  unconfin'd  to  parts, 

To  send  the  soul  on  curious  travel  bent, 

Through  all  the  provinces  of  human  thought ; 

To  dart  her  flight  through  the  whole  sphere  of  man  ; 

Of  this  vast  universe  to  make  the  tour ;  .1225 

In  each  recess  of  space,  and  time,  at  home ; 

Familiar  with  their  wonders  ;  diving  deep  ; 

And,  like  a  prince  of  boundless  int'rests  there, 

Still  most  ambitious  of  the  most  remote ; 

To  look  on  truth  unbroken,  and  entire;  1230 

Truth  in  the  system,  the  full  orb ;  where  truths 

By  truths  enlighten'd,  and  sustain'd,  afford 

An  arch-like  strong  foundation,  to  support 

Th'  incumbent  weight  of  absolute  complete 

Conviction:  here  the  more  we  press,  we  stand  1235 

More  Ann  ;  who  most  examine,  most  believe. 

Parts,  like  half-sentences,  confound  ;  the  whole 

Conveys  the  sense,  and  God  is  understood  ; 

Who  not  in  fragments  writes  to  human  race  : 

Read  his  whole  volume,  sceptic  !  then  reply.  1240 

This,  this,  is  thinking  free,  a  thought  that  grasps 
Beyond  a  grain,  and  looks  beyond  an  hour. 
Turn  up  thine  eye,  survey  this  midnight  scene : 
What  are  earth's  kingdoms,  to  yon  boundless  orbs, 
Of  human  souls,  one  day,  the  destin'd  range  ?  1245 

1219.  Ere  wrapt  by  miracle:  Allusion  seems  to  be  made  to  the  singular 
visions  granted  to  the  Apostle,  and  recorded  in  2  Cor.  xii. 

1245.  Tlie  destin'd  range:  What  a  transcendently  transporting  thought  is 
this  !  Dr.  Thomas  Dick  amplifies  and  corroborates  it  in  his  "  Philosophy 
of  a  Future  State,"  though  the  sacred  writers  are  very  sparing  of  any  clear 
information  on  the  subject.  His  general  course  of  argument  is  thus  summed 
up:  Since  the  universe  is  replenished  with  innumerable  systems,  and  is  vast 
and  unlimited  in  its  extent;  since  God  endued  the  mind  of  man  with  those 
faculties  by  which  he  has  explored  a  portion  of  its  distant  regions :  since 
(he  soul  feels  an  ardent  desire  to  obtain  a  more  full  disclosure  of  its  gran- 
deur and  magnificence ;  since  it  is  endued  with  faculties  capable  of  receiving 


NIGHT    VII.  347 

And  what  yon  boundless  orbs  to  godlike  man  ? 

Those  nurn'rous  worlds  that  throng  the  firmament, 

And  ask  more  space  in  heav'n,  can  roll  at  large 

In  man's  capacious  thought,  and  still  leave  room 

For  ampler  orbs,  for  new  creations,  there.  1250 

an  indefinite  increase  of  knowledge  on  this  subject ;  since  all  the  knowledge 
it  can  acquire  in  the  present  state  respecting  the  operations  and  the  govern- 
ment of  God,  is  as  nothing  when  compared  with  the  prospects  which  eter- 
nity may  unfold  ;  since  the  universe  and  its  material  glories  are  chiefly 
intended  for  the  gratification  of  intelligent  minds;  and  since  it  is  obviously 
inconsistent  with  the  moral  character  of  the  Deity  to  cherish  desires  and 
expectations  which  he  will  finally  frustrate  and  disappoint,  the  conclusion 
appears  to  be  unavoidable,  that  man  is  destined  to  an  immortal  existence. 
During  the  progress  of  that  existence,  his  faculties  will  arrive  at  their  full 
expansion,  and  there  will  be  ample  scope  for  their  exercise  on  myriads  of 
objects  and  events  which  are  just  now  veiled  in  darkness  and  mystery.  He 
will  be  enabled  to  penetrate  more  fully  into  the  plans  and  operations  of  the 
Divinity;  to  perceive  new  aspects  of  the  Eternal  Mind — new  evolutions  of 
Infinite  Wisdom  anil  Design — new  displays  of  Omnipotence,  Goodness,  and 
Intelligence;  and  to  acquire  a  more  minute  and  comprehensive  view  of  all 
the  attributes  of  the  Deity,  and  of  the  connections,  relations,  and  dependen- 
cies of  that  vast  physical  and  moral  system  on  which  his  government  ex- 
tends. 

The  same  author,  in  his  ';  Christian  Philosophy,"  when  speaking  of  the 
wonders  of  vision,  has  made  some  observations  that  have  a  bearing  upon 
the  subject  before  us.     He  says  : 

There  are  animals  whose  range  of  vision  is  circumscribed  within  the 
limits  of  a  few  feet  or  inches  ;  and  had  we  never  perceived  objects  through 
an  organ  in  the  same  state  of  perfection  as  that  with  which  we  are  fur- 
nished, we  could  have  formed  as  little  conception  of  the  sublimity  and 
extent  of  our  present  range  of  sight,  as  we  can  now  do  of  those  powers  of 
vision  which  would  enable  us  to  descry  the  inhabitants  of  distant  worlds. 
The  invention  of  the  telescope  shows  that  the  penetrating  power  of  the  eye 
may  be  indefinitely  increased ;  and  since  the  art  of  man  can  extend  the 
limits  of  natural  vision,  it  is  easy  to  conceive  that  in  the  hand  of  Omnipo- 
tence, a  slight  modification  of  the  human  eye  might  enable  it,  with  the 
utmost  distinctness,  to  penetrate  into  regions  to  which  the  eye  can  set  no 
bounds ;  and,  therefore,  it  is  not  unreasonable  to  believe,  that  in  the  future 
world,  this  will  be  one  property,  among  others,  of  the  resurrection-body, 
that  it  will  be  furnished  with  organs  of  vision  far  superior  to  the  present,  in 
order  to  gratify  its  intelligent  inhabitant  for  taking  an  ample  survey  of  the 
a  riches  and  glory"  of  the  empire  of  God 


348  THE    COMPLAINT. 

Can  such  a  soul  contract  itself,  to  gripe 
A  point  of  no  dimension,  of  no  weight  ? 
It  can  ;  it  does  :  the  world  is  such  a  point ; 
And,  of  that  point,  how  small  a  part  enslaves ! 

How  small  a  part — of  nothing,  shall  I  say?  1255 

Why  not  ? — Friends,  our  chief  treasure,  how  they  drop  ! 
Lucia,  Narcissa  fair,  Philander,  gone  ! 
The  grave,  like  fabled  Cerberus,  has  op'd 
A  triple  mouth  ;  and,  in  an  awful  voice, 

Loud  calls  my  soul,  and  utters  all  I  sing  1260 

How  the  world  falls  to  pieces  round  about  us, 
And  leaves  us  in  a  ruin  of  our  joy  ! 
What  says  this  transportation  of  my  friends  ? 
It  bids  me  love  the  place  where  now  they  dwell, 
And  scorn  this  wretched  spot  they  leave  so  poor.  1265 

Eternity's  vast  ocean  lies  before  thee  ; 
There,  there,  Lorenzo  !  thy  Clarissa  sails. 
Give  thy  mind  sea-room  ;  keep  it  wide  of  earth, 
That  rock  of  souls  immortal ;  cut  thy  cord ; 
Weigh  anchor;  spread  thy  sails  ;  call  ev'ry  wind;  12*70 

Eye  thy  great  Pole-star ;  make  the  land  of  life. 

TWO    KINDS    OF    LIFE    AND    OF    DEATH. 

Two  kinds  of  life  has  clouble-natur'd  man, 
And  two  of  death  ;  the  last  far  more  severe. 
Life  animal  is  nurtur'd  by  the  sun ; 

1258.  Cerberus :  The  fabled  God  of  Hades,  stationed  at  the  gates  of  the 
lower  invisible  world  to  prevent  the  living  from  entering  those  regions,  and 
the  dead  from  returning  to  the  upper  world.  He  was  usually  described  as 
three-headed. 

1264.  It  bids  me  love,  &c  :  It  would  serve  to  enhance  our  love  of  heaven, 
and  to  wean  us  from  an  immoderate  regard  to  earth,  if  we  oftener  meditated 
upon  the  former  as  the  present  dwelling-place  of  our  deceased  Christian 
revives  and  friends. 

1268.   Sea-room:  A  phrase  employed  by  mariners  to  denote  an  extensive 
space  for  a  ship  to  move  in,  free  from  shoals  or  rocks. 
1271.  Life:  Life  eternal. 


NIGHT    VII. 


349 


Thrives  on  his  bounties,  triumphs  in  his  beams.  1275 

Life  rational  subsists  on  higher  food, 

Triumphant  in  His  beams  who  made  the  day. 

When  we  leave  that  sun,  and  are  left  by  this, 

(The  fate  of  all  who  die  in  stubborn  guilt) 

'Tis  utter  darkness,  strictly  double  death.  1280 

We  sink  by  no  judicial  stroke  of  Heav'n, 

But  nature's  course,  as  sure  as  plummets  fall. 

Since  God,  or  man,  must  alter,  ere  they  meet, 

(For  light  and  darkness  blend  not  in  one  sphere) 

'Tis  manifest,  Lorenzo,  who  must  change.  1285 

If,  then,  that  double  death  should  prove  thy  lot, 
Blame  not  the  bowels  of  the  Deity  : 
Man  shall  be  blest,  as  far  as  man  permits. 
Not  man  alone,  all  rationals,  heav'n  arms 
With  an  illustrious,  but  tremendous  pow'r  1290 

To  counteract  its  own  most  gracious  ends ; 
And  this,  of  strict  necessity,  not  choice  : 
That  pow'r  denied,  men,  angels,  were  no  more 
But  passive  engines,  void  of  praise  or  blame. 
A  nature  rational  implies  the  pow'r  1295 

Of  being  blest,  or  wretched,  as  we  please  ; 
Else  idle  reason  would  have  nought  to  do  : 
And  he  that  would  be  barr'd  capacity 
Of  pain,  courts  incapacity  of  bliss. 

Heav'n  wills  our  happiness,  allows  our  doom  ;  1(100 

Invites  us  ardently,  but  not  compels. 

1287.  Bowels  :  Compassion.     A  Scripture  expression. 

1288.  Man  shall,  &c. :  The  doctrine  here  most  impressively  inculcated  is, 
that  man's  ruin  is  from  himself,  which  accords  with  the  doctrine  of  the 
Prophet.  "  Oh  Israel,  thou  hast  destroyed  thyself." 

1292.  Of  strict  necessity :  This  power  conferred  on  man,  is  conferred  as  a 
matter  of  necessity,  for  if  denied  he  would  be  no  better  than  a.  passive  engine 
(1294) ;  he  would  not  be  man.  The  clause  does  not  mean  that  man,  in  the 
exercise  of  it,  acts  from  necessity  or  compulsion  in  any  given  way. 

1298.  Barr'd :  Deprived  of. 

1300.  Allows  our  doom  :  Permits  our  ruin  ;  does  not  irresistibly  prevent  it. 


350  THE    COMPLAINT. 

Heav'n  but  persuades,  almighty  man  decrees ; 

Man  is  the  maker  of  immortal  fates, 

Man  falls  by  man,  if  finally  *e  falls ; 

And  fall  he  must,  who  learns  from  death  alone,  1305 

The  dreadful  secret — that  he  lives  for  ever. 

INFIDELITY    BETRAYS    GUILT    AND    HYPOCRISY. 

Why  this  to  thee  ? — thee  yet,  perhaps,  in  doubt 
Of  second  fife  ?     But  wherefore  doubtful  still  ? 
Eternal  life  is  Nature's  ardent  wish  : 

"What  ardently  we  wish,  we  soon  believe  ;  1310 

Thy  tardy  faith  declares  that  wish  destroy'd  : 
What  has  destroy'd  it  ?— Shall  I  tell  thee  what  ? 
When  fear'd  the  future,  'tis  no  longer  wish'd ; 
And  when  unwish'd,  we  strive  to  disbelieve. 
'Thus  infidelity  our  guilt  betrays.'  1315 

Nor  that  the  sole  detection  ?     Blush,  Lorenzo, 
Blush  for  hypocrisy,  if  not  for  guilt. 

The  future  fear'd  !     An  infidel,  and  fear  ? 
Fear  what  ?  a  dream  ?  a  fable  ? — How  thy  dread, 
Unwilling  evidence,  and  therefore  strong,  1320 

Affords  my  cause  an  undesign'd  support ! 
How  disbelief  affirms  what  it  denies ! 
'  It,  unawares,  asserts  immortal  life.' — 
Surprising  !     Infidelity  turns  out 

A  creed,  and  a  confession  of  our  sins  :  1325 

Apostates,  thus,  are  orthodox  divines. 

Lorenzo,  with  Lorenzo  clash  no  more ; 
Nor  longer  a  transparent  vizor  wear. 
Think'st  thou,  religion  only  has  her  mask  ? 
Our  infidels  are  Satan's  hypocrites  ;  1330 

1305.  JVho  learns,  &c. :  Who  has  not  before  death  believed  that  he  is  des- 
tined to  immortal  existence,  and  used  his  opportunities  of  preparing  for 
everlasting  blessedness. 

1326.  Apostates :  Infidels  are,  in  these  particulars,  orthodox 
1328.    Vizor:   Mask. 


NIGHT    VII.  351 

Pretend  the  worst,  and,  at  the  bottom,  fail. 

When  visited  by  thought  (thought  will  intrude) 

Like  him  they  serve,  they  tremble,  and  believe. 

Is  there  hypocrisy  so  foul  as  this  ? 

So  fatal  to  the  welfare  of  the  world  ?  1335 

What  detestation,  what  contempt,  their  due  ! 

And  if  unpaid,  be  thank'd  for  their  escape 

That  Christian  candour  they  strive  hard  to  scorn. 

If  not  for  that  asylum,  they  might  find 

A  hell  on  earth  ;  nor  'scape  a  worse  below.  1340 

A    REFORMED    LIFE    RENDERS    FAITH    EASY. 

With  insolence,  and  impotence  of  thought, 
Instead  of  racking  fancy,  to  refute, 
Reform  thy  manners,  and  the  truth  enjoy. — 
But  shall  I  dare  confess  the  dire  result  ? 

Can  thy  proud  reason  brook  so  black  a  brand?  1345 

From  purer  manners,  to  sublimer  faith, 
Is  nature's  unavoidable  ascent ; 
An  honest  deist,  where  the  Gospel  shines, 
Matur'd  to  nobler,  in  the  Christian  ends. 

"When  that  blest  change  arrives,  e'en  cast  aside  1350 

This  song  superfluous  ;  life  immortal  strikes 
Conviction,  in  a  flood  of  light  divine. 
A  Christian  dwells,  like  Uriel,  in  the  sun. 

1337.  And  if  unpaid,  &c. :  The  obligation  of  infidels  to  the  kindness  of 
Christians,  is  here  declared. 

L341.  The  meaning  will  be  obvious  on  restoring  the  words  to  the  natural 
order:  Instead  of  racking  fancy  to  refute  (the  truth)  with  insolence  and  im- 
potence (weakness)  of  thought,  reform  thy  manners,  and  (thus)  enjoy  the 
truth. 

1319.  Maturd,  &c. :  Matured  to  nobler  (state)  ends  his  upward  progress 
by  becoming  a  Christian. 

1353.  Like  Uriel,  &c. :  A  very  happy  comparison,  drawn  from  the  Para- 
dise Lost,  Book  III.  622: 

He  soon 

Saw  within  ken  a  glorious  Angel  stand, 


352  THE    COMPLAINT. 

Meridian  evidence  puts  doubt  to  flight ; 

And  ardent  hope  anticipates  the  skies.  1355 

Of  that  bright  sun,  Lorenzo  !  scale  the  sphere ; 

'Tis  easy ;  it  invites  thee  ;  it  descends 

From  heav'n  to  woo,  and  waft  thee  whence  it  came. 

Read  and  revere  the  sacred  page  ;  a  page 

Where  triumphs  immortality  ;  a  page  1360 

Which  not  the  whole  creation  could  produce  ; 

Which  not  the  conflagration  shall  destroy ; 

In  nature's  ruins  not  one  letter  lost : 

'Tis  printed  in  the  mind  of  gods  for  ever. 

VICE    ALONE    RECOMMENDS    THE    SCHEME    OF    ANNIHILATION. 

In  proud  disdain  of  what  e'en  gods  adore,  1365 

Dost  smile  ? — Poor  wretch  !  thy  guardian  angel  weeps. 

The  sane  whom  John  saw  also  in  the  Sun. 
His  back  was  turr.'d,  but  not  his  brightness  hid : 
Of  beaming  sunny  rays  a  golden  tiar 
Circled  his  head^  &c. 

In  the  same  connection  the  poet  had  already  ingeniously  described  the 
luminousness  of  the  sun,  the  orb  assigned  to  this  angel  as  the  best  post  of 
observation,  590 — 620.  We  quote  a  few  of  these  lines  as  illustrating  the 
text  of  Dr.  Young: 

The  place  he  found  beyond  expression  bright, 
Compar1d  with  aught  on  earth,  metal  or  stone ; 

****** 
For  sight  no  obstacle  found  here,  nor  shado, 
But  all  sunshine,  as  when  his  beams  at.  noon 
Culminate  from  th'  equator,  as  they  now 
Shot  upward  still  direct,  whence  no  way  round 
Shadow  from  body  opaque  can  fall ;  and  th'  air, 
No  where  so  clear,  sharpened  his  visual  ray 
To  objects  distant  far. 

1364.  Gods:  Glorified  saints. 

1366.  Thy  guardian  angel :  It  was  a  favourite  opinion  of  the  Christian 
fathers,  that  every  individual  is  under  the  care  of  a  particular  angel  who  is 
assigned  to  him  as  a  guardian.  They  spoke  also  of  two  angels — the  one 
good,  the  other  evil — whom  they  conceived  to  be  attendant  on  each  indi- 
vidual :  the  good  angel  prompting  to  all  good,  and  averting  ill,  and  the  evi! 
angel    prompting  to  all  ill,  and  averting  good  {Hennas  ii.  6) .     The  Jews 


NIGHT    VII.  358 

Angels,  and  men,  assent  to  what  I  ping  ; 

"Wits  smile,  and  thank  me  for  my  midnight  dream. 

HoV  vicious  hearts  fume  frenzy  to  the  brain  ' 

P»rts  push  us  on  to  pride,  and  pride  to  shame ,  1370 

Pert  infidelity  is  "Wit's  cockade, 

To  grace  the  brazen  brow  that  braves  the  skies, 

By  loss  of  being,  dreadfully  secure. 

Lorenzo  !  if  thy  doctrine  wins  the  day, 

And  drives  my  dreams,  defeated,  from  the  field,  1375 

If  this  is  all,  if  earth  a  final  scene, 

Take  heed  ;  stand  fast ;  be  sure  to  be  a  knave  ; 

A  knave  in  grain  !  ne'er  deviate  to  the  right : 

Shouldst  thou  be  good — how  infinite  thy  loss ! 

Guilt  only  makes  annihilation  gain.  1380 

Blest  scheme  !  which  life  deprives  of  comfort,  death 

Of  hope ;  and  which  vice  only  recommends. 

If  so,  where,  infidels,  your  bait  thrown  out 

To  catch  weak  converts  ?     "Where  your  lofty  boast 

Of  zeal  for  virtue,  and  of  love  to  man  ?  1385 

Annihilation,  I  confess,  in  these. 

What  can  reclaim  you  ?     Dare  I  hope  profound 
Philosophers  the  converts  of  a  song  ? 
Yet  know,  its  title  flatters  you,  not  me : 

Yours  be  the  praise  to  make  my  title  good ;  1390 

Mine,  to  bless  Heav'n,  and  triumph  in  your  praise. 
But  since  so  pestilential  your  disease, 
Though  sov'reign  is  the  med'cine  I  prescribe, 
As  yet,  I'll  neither  triumph,  nor  despair : 
But  hope,  ere  long,  my  midnight  dream  will  wake  1395 

Your  hearts,  and  teach  your  wisdom — to  be  wise : 

(excepting  the  Sadducees)  entertained  this  belief,  as  do  tbe  Moslems.  The 
heathen  held  it  in  a  modified  form,  the  Greeks  having  their  tutelary  dcemon, 
and  the  Romans  their  genius.  There  is,  however,  nothing  to  support  this 
notion  in  the  Bible. — Kitto's  Cycl. 

1370.  Parts  :  High  intellectual  powers. 

1389.  Its  title  flatters  you:  :'The  Infidel  Reclaimed." 


354  THE    COMPLAINT. 

For  why  should  souls  immortal,  made  for  bliss, 

E'er  wish  (and  wish  in  vain !)  that  souls  could  die  ? 

What  ne'er  can  die,  Oh !  grant  to  live  ;  and  crown 

The  wish,  and  aim,  and  labour,  of  the  skies;  1400 

Increase,  and  enter  on  the  joys  of  heav'n  : 

Thus  shall  my  title  pass  a  sacred  seal, 

Receive  an  imprimatur  from  above, 

While  angels  shout — An  infidel  reclaim'd  ! 

IMMORTALITY    MARVELLOUS,    BUT    NOT    THEREFORE    INCREDIBLE. 

To  close,  Lorenzo.     Spite  of  all  my  pains,  1405 

Still  seems  it  strange,  that  thou  shouldst  live  for  ever  \ 
Is  it  less  strange,  that  thou  shouldst  live  at  all  ? 
This  is  a  miracle  ;  and  that  no  more. 
Who  gave  beginning,  can  exclude  an  end. 
Deny  thou  art;  then,  doubt  if  thou  shalt  be.  1410 

A  miracle  with  miracles  enclosed, 
Is  man :  and  starts  his  faith  at  what  is  strange  ? 
What  less  than  wonders,  from  the  Wonderful ; 
What  less  than  miracles,  from  God,  can  flow  ? 
Admit  a  God — that  mystery  supreme  !  1415 

That  cause  uncaused !  all  other  wonders  cease ; 
Nothing  is  marvellous  for  him  to  do  : 
Deny  Him — all  is  mystery  besides ; 
Millions  of  mysteries  !  each  darker  far 

Than  that  thy  wisdom  would,  unwisely,  shun.  1420 

If  weak  thy  faith,  why  choose  the  harder  side  ? 
We  nothing  know,  but  what  is  marvellous ; 
Yet  what  is  marvellous,  we  can't  believe- 
So  weak  our  reason,  and  so  great  our  God. 
What  most  surprises  in  the  sacred  page,  1425 

Or  full  as  strange,  or  stranger,  must  be  true. 
Faith  is  not  reason's  labour,  but  repose. 

1403.  Imprimatur :  A  Latin  word  signifying  ':  Let  it  be  printed  ;'n  applied 
to  any  production  for  which  permission  to  print  is  thus  given.  Here  it  is 
equivalent  to  confirmation;  receive  a  confirmation,  &c. 


NIGHT  VII.  355 


COMPARATIVE    INFLUENCE    OF    THE    PRESENT    AND    THE    FUTURE. 

To  faith,  and  virtue,  why  so  backward,  man  ? 
From  hence  : — The  present  strongly  strikes  us  all ; 
The  future,  faintly.     Cau  we,  then,  be  men  ?  1430 

If  men,  Lorenzo,  the  reverse  is  right. 
Reason  is  man's  peculiar;  sense,  the  brute's. 
The  present  is  the  scanty  realm  of  sense ; 
The  future,  reason's  empire  unconfined : 

On  that  expending  all  her  godlike  power,  1435 

She  plans,  provides,  expatiates,  triumphs,  there  ; 
There  builds  her  blessings ;  there  expects  her  praise  ; 
And  nothiug  asks  of  fortune,  or  of  men. 
And  what  is  reason  ?     Be  she  thus  denned 
Reason  is  upright  stature  in  the  soul.  1440 

Oh !  be  a  man  ; — and  strive  to  be  a  god. 

THE    POWER    OF    HOPE,    AND    ITS    VALUE. 

1  For  what  ?  (thou  sav'st :)     To  damp  the  joys  of  life  V 
No ;  to  give  heart  and  substance  to  thy  joys. 
That  tyrant,  Hope,  mark  how  she  domineers : 
She  bids  us  quit  realities  for  dreams;  1445 

Safety  and  peace,  for  hazard  and  alarm : 
That  tyrant  o'er  the  tyrants  of  the  soul, 
She  bids  Ambition  quit  its  taken  prize, 
Spurn  the  luxuriant  branch  on  which  it  sits, 
Though  bearing  crowns,  to  spring  at  distant  game  ;  1450 

And  plunge  in  toils  and  dangers — for  repose. 
If  hope  precarious,  and  of  things,  when  gained, 
Of  little  moment,  and  as  little  stay, 
Can  sweeten  toils  and  dangers  into  joys  ; 
What  then,  that  hope,  which  nothing  can  defeat,  1455 

Our  leave  unask'd  ?     Rich  hope  of  boundless  bliss  ! 
Bliss,  past  man's  power  to  paint  it ;  time's,  to  close! 

1432.  Man  s  peculiar :  Man's  exclusive  property. 


350  THE    COMPLAINT. 

This  hope  is  earth's  most  estimable  prize : 
This  is  man's  portion,  while  no  more  than  man  : 
Hope,  of  all  passions,  most  befriends  ns  here  ;  1460 

Passions  of  prouder  name  befriend  us  less. 
Joy  has  her  tears,  and  transport  has  her  death : 
Hope,  like  a  cordial,  innocent,  though  strong, 
Man's  heart,  at  once,  inspirits  and  serenes ; 
Nor  makes  him  pay  his  wisdom  for  his  joys  :  1 4(35 

'Tis  all  our  present  state  can  safely  bear, 
Health  to  the  frame  !  and  vigour  to  the  mind  ? 
A  joy  attempered  !  a  chastised  delight ! 
Like  the  fair  summer  evening,  mild  and  sweet ! 
'Tis  man's  full  cup ;  his  paradise  below !  1470 

A  blest  hereafter,  then,  or  hoped,  or  gain'd, 
Is  all ; — our  whole  of  happiness  :  full  proof, 
I  chose  no  trivial  or  inglorious  theme. 
And  know,  ye  foes  to  song !  (well  meaning  men, 
Though  quite  forgotten  half  your  Bible's  praise  !)  1475 

Important  truths,  in  spite  of  verse,  may  please. 
Grave  minds  you  praise  ;  nor  can  you  praise  too  much  : 
If  there  is  weight  in  an  eternity, 
Let  the  grave  listen ; — and  be  graver  still. 

1464.  Serenes :  Makes  calm  and  tranquil. 

1471.  Or  hoped:  Either  hoped.  • 

1475.  Half  your  Bible's  praise :  The  poetical  parts  of  it. 

1479.  The  grave :  Those  who  are  grave. 


NIGHT  VIII. 


VIRTUE'S  APOLOGY; 


THE  MAN  OF  THE  WORLD  ANSWERED. 

IN  WHICH  ARE  CONSIDERED,  THE  LOVE  OF  THIS  LIFE  J    THE  AMBITION  AND 
PLEASURE,  WITH  THE  WIT  AND  WISDOM  OF  THE  WORLD. 


And  has  all  nature,  then,  espoused  my  part  ? 
Have  I  bribed  heav'n,  and  earth  to  plead  against  thee  ? 
And  is  thy  soul  immortal  ? — What  remains  ? 
All,  all,  Lorenzo  ! — Make  immortal,  blest. 
Unblest  immortals !     What  can  shock  us  more  ?  5 

And  yet  Lorenzo  still  affects  the  world  ; 
There,  stows  his  treasure ;  thence,  his  title  draws, 
Man  of  the  world  !  (for  such  wouldst  thou  be  call'd) 
And  art  thou  proud  of  that  inglorious  style  ? 
Proud  of  reproach  ?     For  a  reproach  it  was,  1 0 

In  ancient  days  ;  and  Christian, — in  an  age, 
When  men  were  men,  and  not  ashamed  of  heav'n, 
Fired  their  ambition,  as  it  crown'd  their  joy. 
Sprinkled  with  dews  from  the  Castalian  font, 

6.  Affects:  Desires.     11-13.  Christian:  To  be  a  Christian Jired,  &c. 

14.  Castalian  font :  A  fountain  sacred  to  the  Muses  on  Mount  Parnassus, 


358  THE    COMPLAINT. 

Fain  would  I  re-baptize  thee,  and  confer  15 

A  purer  spirit,  and  a  nobler  name. 

Thy  fond  attachments,  fatal  and  inflamed, 
Point  out  my  path,  and  dictate  to  my  song ; 
To  thee,  the  world  how  fair  !  how  strongly  strikes 
Ambition  !  and  gay  pleasure  stronger  still !  20 

Thy  triple  bane !  the  triple  bolt,  that  lays 
Thy  virtue  dead !     Be  these  my  triple  theme  ; 
Nor  shall  thy  wit,  or  wisdom,  be  forgot. 

Common  the  theme  ;  not  so  the  song ;  if  she 
My  song  invokes,  Urania,  deigns  to  smile.  25 

The  charm  that  chains  us  to  the  world,  her  foe, 
If  she  dissolves,  the  man  of  earth,  at  once, 
Starts  from  his  trance,  and  sighs  for  other  scenes  ; 
Scenes,  where  these  sparks  of  night,  these  stars  shall  shine 
Unnumber'd  suns,  (for  all  things,  as  they  are,  30 

The  blest  behold  ;)  and,  in  one  glory,  pour 
Their  blended  blaze  on  man's  astonish' d  sight ; 
A  blaze, — the  least  illustrious  object  there. 

Lorenzo !  since  eternal  is  at  hand, 
To  swallow  time's  ambitions ;  as  the  vast  35 

Leviathan,  the  bubbles  vain,  that  ride 
High  on  the  foaming  billow  ;  what  avail 
High  titles,  high  descent,  attainments  high, 
If  unattain'd  our  highest  ?     O  Lorenzo  ! 
What  lofty  thoughts,  these  elements  above,  40 

in  Greece.  Lorenzo  had  been  sprinkled  with  the  dews  of  Pagan  wisdom 
and  poesy.  Our  author  would  pour  upon  him  the  water  of  Christian  Bap- 
tism, and  secure  to  him  the  Christian  character  corresponding  to  that  bap- 
tism. 

25.  Urania  was,  in  the  Pagan  Mythology,  the  goddess  of  astronomy,  and 
by  a  poetic  license,  though  entirely  an  imaginary  being,  is  here  invoked  as 
presiding  over  all  worlds,  by  a  reference  to  which,  in  part,  the  effort  is  made 
to  eradicate  an  undue  love  for  this  earth. 

34.  Eternal :  Put  for  eternity. 

35.  Ambitions:  Objects  of  ambition. 
35,  36.  Jls  the  vast  Leviathan,  or  whale,  swallows  the  bubbles  vain,  &c. 


i 

; 


NIGHT    VIII.  350 

What  tow'ring  hopes,  what  sallies  from  die  sun, 

"What  grand  surveys  of  destiny  divine, 

And  pompous  presage  of  unfathom'd  fate, 

Should  roll  in  bosoms,  -where  a  spirit  burns, 

Bound  for  eternity  !     In  bosoms  read  45 

By  Him,  who  foibles  in  archangels  sees  ! 

On  human  hearts  He  bends  a  jealous  eye, 

And  marks,  and  in  heavVs  register  enrolls 

The  rise  and  progress  of  each  option  there ; 

Sacred  to  doomsday  !     That  the  page  unfolds,  50 

And  spreads  us  to  the  gaze  of  gods  and  men. 

THIS    WORLD    COMPARED    WITH    THE    XEXT. 

And  what  an  option,  0  Lorenzo,  thine  ? 
This  world !  and  this,  unrival'd  by  the  skies  ! 
A  world,  where  lust  of  pleasure,  grandeur,  gold, 
Three  demons  that  divide  its  realms  between  them,  55 

"With  strokes  alternate  buffet  to  and  fro 
Man's  restless  heart,  their  sport,  their  flying  ball ; 
Till,  with  the  giddy  circle,  sick  and  tired, 
It  pants  for  peace,  and  drops  into  despair. 
Such  is  the  world  Lorenzo  sets  above  00 

That  glorious  promise,  angete  were  esteemed 
Too  mean  to  bring  ;  a  promise,  their  Adored 
Descended  to  communicate,  and  press, 
By  counsel,  miracle,  life,  death,  on  man. 

Such  is  the  world  Lorenzo's  wisdom  wooes,  05 

And  on  its  thorny  pillow  seeks  repose  ; 
A  pillow,  which,  like  opiates  ill  prepared, 
Intoxicates,  but  not  composes ;  fills 

46.  Foibles,  &c. :  Job  iv.  IS,  ;'  His  angels  he  charged  with  folly" 

50.  Sacred  to  doomsday :  Reserved  for  disclosure  at  the  day  of  final  sen- 
tence or  judgment. 

53.  UnrtvaPd:  That  is.  in  Lorenzo's  opinion. 

54.  Where  lust.  &c. :  Called  by  the  Apostle  John  (1  Ep.  ii.  16)." the  lust 
of  the  flesh,  the  lust  of  the  eyes,  and  the  pride  of  life." 


360  THE    COMPLAINT. 

The  visionary  mind  with  gay  chimeras, 

All  the  wild  trash  of  sleep,  without  the  rest ;  70 

What  unfeign'd  travel,  and  what  dreams  of  joy  I 

THE  GAY  AND  THE  BUSY  DESCRIBED. 

How  frail,  men,  things  !  how  momentary  both ! 
Fantastic  chase  of  shadows,  hunting  shades  ! 
The  gay,  the  busy,  equal,  though  unlike ; 
Equal  in  wisdom,  differently  wise  !  *lo 

Through  flow'ry  meadows,  and  thro'  dreary  wastes, 
One  bustling,  and  one  dancing,  into  death. 
There's  not  a  day,  but,  to  the  man  of  thought, 
Betrays  some  secret,  that  throws  new  reproach 
On  life,  and  makes  him  sick  of  seeing  more.  80 

The  scenes  of  bus'ness  tell  us — "  What  are  men  ;" 
The  scenes  of  pleasure — '  What  is  all  beside ;' 
There,  others  we  despise ;  and  here,  oiu-selves. 
Amid  disgust  eternal,  dwells  delight  ? 
'Tis  approbation  strikes  the  string  of  joy.  85 

THE    PROUD,    THE    SENSUAL,    AND    THE    GRAVE. 

What  wondrous  prize  hasjdndled  this  career, 
Stuns  with  the  din,  and  chokes  us  with  the  dust, 
On  life's  gay  stage,  one  inch  above  the  grave  ? 
The  proud  run  up  and  down  in  quest  of  eyes  ; 
The  sensual  in  pursuit  of  something  worse ;  90 

The  grave,  of  gold ;  the  politic,  of  pow'r ; 
And  all,  of  other  butterflies,  as  vain  ! 
As  eddies  draw  things  frivolous  and  light, 
How  is  man's  heart  by  vanity  drawn  in ; 

69.  Chimeras :  Incongruities,  improbable  imaginings.  The  allusion  is  ex- 
plained in  a  former  note. 

89.  In  quest  of  eyes :  In  search  of  observers,  of  persons  to  look  at,  and  ad- 
mire them. 

92.    Of  other:  In  quest  of  other. 


NIGHT    VIII.  3G 

On  the  swift  circle  of  returning-  toys,  95 

WhirPd,  straw-like,  round  and  round,  and  then  ingulf 'd, 
"Where  gay  delusion  darkens  to  despair ! 

THE    WORLD'S    HISTORY. 

'  This  is  a  beaten  track.' — Is  this  a  track 
Should  not  be  beaten  ?     Never  beat  enough, 
Till  enough  learnt  the  truths  it  would  inspire.  100 

Shall  truth  be  silent  because  folly  frowns  ? 
Turn  the  world's  history  ;  what  find  we  there, 
But  fortune's  sports,  or  nature's  cruel  claims, 
Or  woman's  artifice,  or  man's  revenge, 

And  endless  inhumanities  on  man  ?  105 

Fame's  trumpet  seldom  sounds,  but,  like  the  knell, 
It  brings  bad  tidings  :  how  it  hourly  blows 
Man's  misadventures  round  the  list'ning  world  ! 
Man  is  the  tale  of  narrative  old  Time ; 

Sad  tale  !  which  high  as  paradise  begins;  110 

As  if  the  toil  of  travel  to  delude, 
From  stage  to  stage,  in  his  eternal  round, 
The  days,  his  daughters,  as  they  spin  our  hours 
On  fortune's  wheel,  where  accident  unthought 
Oft,  in  a  moment,  snaps  life's  strongest  thread,  115 

Each,  in  her  turn,  some  tragic  story  tells, 
With,  now  and  then,  a  wretched  farce  between ; 
And  fills  his  chronicle  with  human  woes. 

Time's  daughters,  true  as  those  of  men,  deceive  us  ; 
Not  one,  but  puts  some  cheat  on  all  mankind:  120 

While  in  their  father's  bosom,  not  yet  ours, 
They  flatter  our  fond  hopes ;  and  promise  much 

98.  "  This  is  a  beaten  track:'''1  An  objection  supposed  to  be  made  by 
Lorenzo  in  disgust. 

113.  The  Days,  &c. :  These  are  beautifully  personified  as  the  Daugnters 
of  Time,  who  spin  the  hours  (like  a  thread)  on  Fortune's  wheel,  or  the 
wheel  of  Providence,  &c. 

119.  True    Truly,  really. 
16 


302  THE    COMPLAINT. 

Of  amiable  ;  but  bold  bim  not  o'erwise, 

Wbo  dares  to  trust  them  ;  and  laugh  round  the  year, 

At  still-confiding,  still-confounded,  man  ;  125 

Confiding,  though  confounded  ;  hoping  on, 

Untaught  by  trial,  unconvinced  by  proof, 

And  ever  looking  for  the  never  seen. 

Life  to  the  last,  like  hardened  felons,  lies  ; 

Nor  owns  itself  a  cheat,  till  it  expires.  1 30 

Its  little  jo)'s  go  out  by  one  and  one, 

And  leave  poor  man,  at  length,  in  perfect  night ; 

Night  darker  than  what  now  involves  the  pole. 

A   JUST    ESTIMATE    OF   THIS    "WORLD. 

O  Thou,  who  dost  permit  these  ills  to  fall, 
For  gracious  ends,  and  wouldst  that  man  should  mourn !     135 
O  Thou,  whose  hands  this  goodly  fabric  framed, 
"Who  know'st  it  best,  and  wouldst  that  man  should  know  ! 
What  is  this  sublunary  world  ?     A  vapour ! 
A  vapour  all  it  holds ;  itself  a  vapour, 

From  the  damp  bed  of  chaos,  by  thy  beam  140 

Exhaled,  ordained  to  swim  its  destined  hour 
In  ambient  air,  then  melt,  and  disappear. 
Earth's  days  are  numbered,  nor  remote  her  doom , 
As  mortal,  though  less  transient,  than  her  sons ; 
Yet  they  doat  on  her,  as  the  world  and  they  145 

Were  both  eternal,  solid  ;  Thou,  a  dream. 

THE    VOYAGE    OF   LIFE. 

They  doat,  on  what  ?     Immortal  views  apart, 

A  region  of  outsides  !  a  land  of  shadows ! 

A  fruitful  field  of  flow'ry  promises ! 

A  wilderness  of  joys  !  perplex'd  with  doubts,  150 

And  sharp  with  thorns !  a  troubled  ocean,  spread 

With  bold  adventurers,  their  all  on  board ; 

14.*).  As:   As  if. 


stout  vnr.  363 

No  second  hope,  if  here  their  fortune  frowns  ! 

Frown  soon  it  must.     Of  various  rates  they  sail, 

Of  ensigns  various  ;  all  alike  in  this,  155 

All  restless,  anxious ;  toss'd  with  hopes  and  fears, 

In  calmest  skies ;  obnoxious  all  to  storm ; 

And  stormy  the  most  general  blast  of  life : 

All  bound  for  happiness  ;  yet  few  provide 

The  chart  of  knowledge,  pointing  where  it  lies;  160 

Or  virtue's  helm,  to  shape  the  course  design'd : 

All,  more  or  less,  capricious  fate  lament, 

Now  lifted  by  the  tide,  and  now  resorbed, 

And  farther  from  their  wishes  than  before : 

All,  more  or  less,  against  each  other  dash,  165 

To  mutual  hurt,  by  gusts  of  passion  driven, 

And  suff'ring  more  from  folly  than  from  fate. 

Ocean  !  thou  dreadful  and  tumultuous  home 
Of  dangers,  at  eternal  war  with  man  ! 

Death's  capital,  where  most  he  domineers,  1*70 

With  all  his  chosen  terrors  frowning  round, 

163.  Resorbed:  Drawn  down  again,  swallowed  up. 

16S.  This  paragraph  contains  a  beautiful  apostrophe  to  the  Ocean,  remind- 
ing us  of  the  finest  strains  of  Lord  Byron : 

Roll  on,  thou  deep  and  dark -blue  ocean — roll ! 
Ten  thousand  fleets  sweep  over  thee  in  vain. 
Man  marks  tho  earth  with  ruin — his  control 
Stops  with  the  shore;  upon  the  watery  plain 
The  wrecks  are  all  thy  deed,  nor  doth  remain 
A  shadow  of  man's  ravage,  save  his  own, 
"When,  for  a  moment,  like  a  drop  of  rain, 
He  sinks  into  thy  depths  with  bubbling  groan, 
Without  a  grave,  unknell'd,  uncoflin'd,  and  unknown. 

Thou  glorious  mirror,  where  the  Almighty's  form 
Glasses  itself  in  tempests ;  in  all  time, 
Calm  or  convulsed — in  breeze,  or  gale,  or  storm, 
Icing  the  pole,  or  in  the  torrid  clime 
Dark-heaving;  boundless,  endless,  and  sublime— 
The  image  of  eternity— the  throne 
Of  the  Invisible;  even  from  out  thy  slime 
The  monsters  of  the  deep  are  made ;  each  zone 
Obeys  thee;  thou  goest  forth,  dread,  fathomless,  alone  1 


30  t  THE    COMPLAINT. 

(Though  lately  feasted  high  at  Albion's  cost) 

Wide  op'ning,  and  loud  roaring  still  for  more ! 

Too  faithful  mirror  !  how  dost  thou  reflect 

The  melancholy  face  of  human  life  !  175 

The  strong  resemblance  tempts  me  farther  still : 

And  haply,  Britain  may  be  deeper  struck 

By  moral  truth,  in  such  a  mirror  seen, 

Which  nature  holds  for  ever  at  her  eye. 

Self-flatter'd,  unexperienced,  high  in  hope,  1 80 

When  young;,  with  sanguine  cheer,  and  streamers  gay, 
We  cut  our  cable,  launch  into  the  world, 
And  fondly  dream  each  wind  and  star  our  friend  ; 
All,  in  some  darling  enterprise  embark'd  : 
But  where  is  he  can  fathom  its  event  ?  185 

Amid  a  multitude  of  artless  hands, 
Buin's  sure  perquisite  !  her  lawful  prize ! 
Some  steer  aright ;  but  the  black  blast  blows  hard, 
And  puffs  them  wide  of  hope :  with  hearts  of  proof, 
Full  against  wind  and  tide,  some  win  their  way;  190 

And  when  strong  effort  has  deserved  the  port, 
And  tugg'd  it  into  view,  'tis  won  !  'tis  lost ! 
Though  strong  their  oar,  still  stronger  is  their  fate : 
They  strike  ;  and,  while  the}'  triumph,  they  expire. 
In  stress  of  weather,  most;  some  sink  outright;  195 

17&.  Jllbioris  cost :  The  shipwreck  of  Admiral  Balchen  is  referred  to. 
England  takes  this  name  from  the  white  chalky  cliffs  on  her  southeastern 
coast,  near  the  Straits  of  Dover. 

182.  Launch  into  the  world :  The  scenes  and  employments  of  the  world 
are  here  represented  under  the  figure  of  the  waters  of  the  ocean. 

189.   Wide  of  hope :  Far  from  the  ports  they  hoped  to  reach. 

195 — 201.  Some  sink,  &c. :  If  to  extinguish  a  passion  nothing  more  were 
necessary  than  to  shew  its  absclute  futility,  the  love  of  posthumous  glory 
(says  Dr.  Thomas  Brown)  must  long  have  ceased  to  he  a  passion,  since 
almost  every  moralist  has  proved,  with  most  accurate  demonstration,  the 
absurdity  of  seeking  that  which  must  by  its  nature  be  beyond  the  reach  of 
ourenjoyment.  and  almost  every  poet  has  made  the  madness  of  such  a  de- 
sire a  subject  of  his  ridicule,  though,  at  the  same  time,  it  cannot  be  doubted 
that  if  the  passion  rnuld  havp  boon  extinguished  either  by  demonstration  or 


NIGHT    VIII.  3G5 

O'er  them,  and  o'er  their  names,  the  billows  dose  ; 

Tomorrow  knows  not  they  were  ever  born. 

Others  a  short  memorial  leave  behind, 

Like  a  flag  floating,  when  the  bark's  ingulf 'd ; 

It  floats  a  moment,  and  is  seen  no  more :  200 

One  Cassar  lives ;  a  thousand  are  forgot. 

Hew  few  beneath  auspicious  planets  born, 

(Darlings  of  Providence  !  fond  Fate's  elect !) 

With  swelling  sails  make  good  the  promis'd  port, 

With  all  their  wishes  freighted  !  yet,  e'en  these,  205 

Freighted  with  all  their  wishes,  soon  complain  : 

Free  from  misfortune,  not  from  nature  free, 

They  still  are  men  ;  and  when  is  man  secure  ? 

As  fatal  time,  as  storm !  the  rush  of  years 

Beats  down  their  strength;  their  numberless  escapes  210 

In  ruin  end  ;  and,  now,  their  proud  success 

But  plants  new  terrors  on  the  victor's  brow : 

"What  pain  to  quit  the  world,  just  made  their  own  ; 

Their  nest  so  deeply  down'd,  and  built  so  high  ! 

Too  low  they  build,  who  build  beneath  the  stars.  215 

Wo  then  apart  (if  wo  apart  can  be 
From  mortal  man)  and  fortune  at  our  nod, 
The  gay !  rich  !  great !  triumphant !  and  august ! 
What  are  they  ? — The  most  happy  (strange  to  say  !) 
Convince  me  most  of  human  misery  :  220 

What  are  they  ?     Smiling  wretches  of  to-morrow ! 

ridicule,  we  should  have  had  fewer  demonstrations,  and  still  less  \\u.  wti  the 
subject.  "  Can  glory  be  anything,"  says  Seneca,  "  when  he  who  is  *>aid  to 
be  the  very  possessor  of  it,  himself  is  nothing !"'  "  Xulla  est  omnino  gloria, 
cum  is,  cujus  ea  esse  dicitur,  non  extat  omnino." — Brown's  Philos.  vol.  iii. 
93-4. 

Pope,  in  his  Essay  on  Man,  Ep.  iv.  237 — 246,  presents  us  with  some  fine 
lines  on  this  subject. 

202.  Beneath  auspicious  planets,  &c. :  An  allusion  to  the  exploded  science 
of  astrology. 

209.  As  fatal  time,  &c. :  Time  is  as  fatal,  as  destructive,  as  a  storm. 

221.  Wretches  of  to-morrow :  Smiling  now  and  happy,  but  liable  to  be 
wretched  to-morrow,  or  a  short  time  hence. 


366 


TIIK    COMPLAINT. 


More  wretched,  then,  than  e'er  their  slave  can  be: 

Their  treach'rous  blessings,  at  the  clay  of  need, 

Like  other  faithless  friends,  unmask,  and  sting. 

Then,  what  provoking  indigence  in  wealth  !  225 

What  aggravated  impotence  in  power! 

High  titles,  then,  what  insult  of  their  pain  ! 

If  that  sole  anchor,  equal  to  the  waves, 

Immortal  hope  !  defies  not  the  rude  storm, 

Take  comfort  from  the  foaming  billow's  rage,  230 

And  makes  a  welcome  harbour  of  the  tomb. 


THE    SEVERAL    STAGES    OF    LIFE,    IN    THE    HISTORY    OF    FLORELI.O. 

Is  this  a  sketch  of  what  thy  soul  admires  ? 
'  But  here  (thou  say'st)  the  miseries  of  life 
Are  huddled  in  a  group.     A  more  distinct 
Survey,  perhaps,  might  bring  thee  better  news.'  235 

Look  on  life's  stages  :  they  speak  plainer  still ; 
The  plainer  they,  the  deeper  wilt  thou  sigh. 
Look  on  thy  lovely  boy  ;  in  him  behold 
The  best  that  can  befall  the  best  on  earth ; 
The  boy  has  virtue  by  his  mother's  side :  240 

Yes,  on  Florello  look  :  a  father's  heart 
Is  tender,  though  the  man's  is  made  of  stone ; 
The  truth,  through  such  a  medium  seen,  may  make 
Impression  deep,  and  fondness  prove  thy  friend. 

Florello,  lately  cast  on  this  rude  coast,  245 

A  helpless  infant;  now  a  heedless  child: 
To  poor  Clarissa's  throes,  thy  care  succeeds  ; 
Care  full  of  love,  and  yet  severe  as  hate  ! 
O'er  thy  soul's  joy  how  oft  thy  fondness  frowns ! 
Needful  austerities  his  will  restrain ;  260 

As  thorns  fence  in  the  tender  plant  from  harm. 

233-5.  But,  &c. :  Another  objection  is,  in  these  lines,  supposed  U>  be  ad- 
vanced by  Lorenzo. 

244.   Prove   (lo  be)   thy  friend. 
247.   Clarissa:  Wilo  of  Lorenzo. 


NIGHT   VIII.  367 

As  yet,  his  reason  cannot  go  alone  ; 

But  asks  a  sterner  nurse  to  lead  it  on. 

His  little  heart  is  often  terrified  : 

The  hlush  of  morning,  in  his  cheek,  turns  pale;  255 

Its  pearly  dew-drop  trembles  in  his  eye  ; 

His  harmless  eye  !  and  drowns  an  angel  there. 

Ah  !  what  avails  his  innocence  ?     The  task 

Enjoin'd  must  discipline  his  early  powers ; 

He  learns  to  sigh,  ere  he  is  known  to  sin  ;  260 

Guiltless,  and  sad  !  a  wretch  before  the  fall ! 

How  cruel  this  !  more  cruel  to  forbear. 

Our  nature  such,  with  necessaiy  pains 

We  purchase  prospects  of  precarious  peace : 

Though  not  a  father,  this  might  steal  a  sigh.  265 

Suppose  him  disciplined  aright,  (if  not, 
'Twill  sink  our  poor  account  to  poorer  still ;) 
Ripe  from  the  tutor,  proud  of  liberty, 
He  leaps  enclosures,  bounds  into  the  world ! 
The  world  is  taken,  after  ten  years'  toil,  270 

Like  ancient  Troy ;  and  all  its  joys  his  own. 
Alas  !  the  world's  a  tutor  more  severe ; 
Its  lessons  hard,  and  ill  deserve  his  pains  ; 
Unteaching  all  his  virtuous  nature  taught, 
Or  books  (fair  virtue's  advocates !)  inspired.  275 

For  who  receives  him  into  public  life  ? 
Men  of  the  world,  the  terras-filial  breed, 
"Welcome  the  modest  stranger  to  their  sphere, 
(Which  glitter'd  long,  at  distance,  in  his  sight) 
And  in  their  hospitable  arms  enclose:  280 

Men,  who  think  nought  so  strong  of  the  romance, 

255-7.  These  are  lines  of  surpassing  beauty,  describing  the  unsophis- 
ticated innocence  of  childhood,  using  the  word  "  innocence"'  in  a  com- 
parative sense ;  for  even  in  childhood  we  are  all  corrupt  beings,  prone  to 
moral  evil.  Our  author's  language  in  this  connection  gives  too  bright  a 
picture  of  childhood's  innocence,  to  accord  fully  with  the  doctrines  of  Scrip- 
ture. 

277.  Ti'rr  a -filial  breed;  Breed  of  the  sons  of  earth. 


3G8  THE    COMPLAINT. 

So  rank  knight-errant,  as  a  real  friend : 

Men,  that  act  up  to  reason's  golden  rule, 

All  weakness  of  affection  quite  subdued : 

Men,  that  would  blush  at  being  thought  sincere,  285 

And  feign,  for  glory,  the  few  faults  they  want ; 

That  love  a  he,  where  truth  would  pay  as  well ; 

As  if,  to  them,  vice  shone  her  own  reward. 

Lorenzo !  canst  thou  bear  a  shocking  sight  ? 
Such,  for  Florello's  sake,  'twill  now  appear  :  290 

See,  the  steel'd  files  of  season'd  veterans, 
Train'd  to  the  world,  in  burnish'd  falsehood  bright ; 
Deep  in  the  fatal  stratagems  of  peace ; 
All  soft  sensation,  in  the  throng,  rubb'd  off; 
All  their  keen  purpose  in  politeness  sheath'd  ;  295 

His  friends  eternal — during  interest ; 
His  foes  implacable — when  worth  their  while ; 
At  war  with  every  welfare  but  their  own  ; 
As  wise  as  Lucifer ;  and  half  as  good ; 

And  by  whom  none  but  Lucifer  can  gain —  300 

Naked,  through  these  (so  common  fate  ordains) 
Naked  of  heart,  his  cruel  course  he  runs, 
Stung  out  of  all,  most  amiable  in  life, 
Prompt  truth,  and  open  thought,  and  smiles  unfeign'd ; 
Affection,  as  his  species,  wide  diffused ;  305 

Noble  presumptions  to  mankind's  renown  ; 
Ingenuous  trust,  and  confidence  of  love. 

These  claims  to  joy  (if  mortals  joy  might  claim) 
Will  cost  him  many  a  sigh ;  till  time,  and  pains, 
From  the  slow  mistress  of  this  school,  Experience,  310 

And  her  assistant,  pausing  pale  Distrust, 
Purchase  a  dear-bought  clue,  to  lead  his  youth 
Through  serpentine  obliquities  of  life, 

282.  So  rank  knight-errant :  So  much  like  the  fanciful  and  irrational  con- 
duct of  a  wandering  knight,  who  was  accustomed  to  pass  his  time  travel- 
ling in  search  of  whimsical  adventures,  like  those  of  Don  Quixote. 

306.  Presumption* :  aspirations. 


NIGHT    VIII.  309 

And  the  dark  labyrinth  of  human  hearts. 

And  happy  !  if  the  due  shall  come  so  cheap :  315 

For,  while  we  learn  to  fence  with  public  guilt, 

Full  oft  we  feel  its  foul  contagion  too, 

If  less  than  heav'nly  virtue  is  our  guard. 

Thus,  a  strange  kind  of  curst  necessity 

Brings  clown  the  sterling  temper  of  his  soul,  320 

By  base  alloy,  to  bear  the  current  stamp 

Below  call'd  wisdom  ;  sinks  him  into  safety ; 

And  brands  him  into  credit  with  the  world ; 

Where  specious  tides  dignify  disgrace, 

And  nature's  injuries  are  arts  of  life ;  325 

Where  brighter  reason  prompts  to  bolder  crimes; 

And  heav'nly  talents  make  infernal  hearts  ; 

That  unsurmountable  extreme  of  guilt ! 

THE    MACHIAVELLIAN    SYSTEM. 

Poor  Machiavel !  who  laboured  hard  his  plan, 

316.  Fence :  Contend. 

329.  His  plan  :  Those  who  wish  to  read  a  full  and  ingenious  account  of  this 
remarkable  man,  should  consult  Macaulay's  Miscellanies.  The  doctrine  of 
his  ''  Prince"  was,  that  he  may  do  anything  to  attain  his  object,  in  utter 
disregard  of  the  peace  or  welfare  of  his  subjects,  the  dictates  of  honesty  and 
honour,  or  the  precepts  of  religion.  There  has  been  a  great  dispute  concern- 
ing the  real  purport  of  that  publication— whether  it  was  designed  to  recom- 
mend tyrannical  maxims  and  conduct,  or  whether  it  described  them  more 
luminously  than  any  previous  writer  had  done,  for  the  purpose  of  exciting 
in  the  popular  mind  an  abhorrence  of  tyranny. 

Macaulay  says :  We  doubt  whether  any  name  in  literary  history  be  so 
generally  odious  as  that  of  the  man  whose  character  and  writings  we  now 
propose  to  consider.  The  terms  in  which  he  is  commonly  described  would 
seem  to  import  that  he  is  the  Tempter,  the  Evil  Principle,  the  Dis- 
coverer of  Ambition  and  Revenge,  the  Original  Inventor  of  Perjury ;  that 
before  the  publication  of  his  fatal  Prince,  there  had  never  been  a  hypocrite, 
a  tyrant,  or  a  traitor,  a  simulated  virtue  or  a  convenient  crime.  One  writer 
gravely  assures  us  that  Maurice  of  Saxony  learned  all  his  fraudulent  policy 
from  that  execrable  volume.  Another  remarks,  that  since  it  was  trans- 
lated into  Turkish,  the  Sultans  have  been  more  addicted  than  formerly  to 
*be  custom  of  strangling  their  brothers.  The  Church  of  Rome  has  pro 
1G* 


370  THE    COMPLAINT. 

Forgot,  that  genius  needs  not  go  to  school ;  330 

Forgot,  that  man,  without  a  tutor  wise, 

His  plan  had  practised,  long  before  'twas  writ. 

The  world's  all  title-page,  there's  no  contents : 

The  world's  all  face  ;  the  man  who  shows  his  heart 

Is  hooted  for  his  nudities,  and  scorned.  335 

A  man  I  knew,  who  lived  upon  a  smile ; 

And  well  it  fed  him  ;  he  look'd  plump  and  fair, 

While  rankest  venom  foam'd  through  ev'ry  vein. 

Lorenzo  !  what  I  tell  thee,  take  not  ill ; 

Living,  he  fawn'd  on  every  fool  alive;  3-40 

And,  dying,  cursed  the  friend  on  whom  he  lived. 

To  such  proficients  thou  art  half  a  saint. 

In  foreign  realms  (for  thou  hast  travelled  far) 

How  curious  to  contemplate  two  state  rooks, 

nounced  his  works  accursed  things.  It  is  indeed  scarcely  possible  for  any 
person  net  well  acquainted  with  the  history  and  literature  of  Italy,  to  read 
without  honor  and  amazement  the  celebrated  treatise  which  has  brought  sc 
much  obloquy  on  the  name  of  Machiavelli.  Such  a  display  of  wickedness, 
naked  yet  not  ashamed  ;  such  cool,  judicious,  scientific  atrocity,  seem  rather 
to  belong  to  a  fiend  than  to  the  most  depraved  of  men.  Principles  which 
the  most  hardened  ruffian  would  scarcely  hint  to  his  most  trusted  accom- 
plice, or  avow  without  the  disguise  of  some  palliating  sophism,  even  to  his 
own  mind,  are  professed  without  the  slightest  circumlocution,  and  assumed 
as  the  fundamental  axioms  of  all  political  science.  And  yet,  there  is  no 
reason  whatever  to  think  that  those  amongst  whom  he  lived  saw  anything 
shocking  or  incongruous  in  his  writings.  Abundant  proofs  remain  of  the 
high  estimation  in  which  both  his  works  and  his  person  were  held  by  the 
most  respectable  among  his  contemporaries.  Clement  the  Seventh  patron- 
ized the  publication  of  those  very  books  which  the  Council  of  Trent,  in  the 
following  generation,  pronounced  unfit  for  the  perusal  of  Christians.  The 
cry  against  them  was  first  raised  beyond  the  Alps,  and  seems  to  have  been 
heard  with  amazement  in  Italy, 

It  is,  therefore,  in  the  state  of  moral  feeling  among  the  Italians  of  those 
times  that  we  must  seek  lor  the  real  explanation  of  what  seems  most  mys» 
terious  in  the  life  and  writings  of  this  remarkable  man. 

335.  His  nudities:  His  exposure  of  himself. 

342.   To  such,  &c. :  Compared  to  such,  &c. 

344.  Hooks :  Birds  of  the  crow  species ;  here  used  as  a  term  to  denote 
trickish,  rapacious  politicians. 


SIGHT    VIII.  3  71 

Studious  their  nests  to  feather  in  a  trice  ;  345 

With  all  the  necroniantics  of  their  art, 

Playing  the  game  of  faces  on  each  other ; 

Making  court  sweet-meats  of  their  latent  gall, 

In  foolish  hope  to  steal  each  other's  trust ; 

Both  cheating,  both  exulting,  both  deceived ;  3. jo 

And,  sometimes,  both  (let  earth  rejoice)  undone ! 

Their  parts  we  doubt  not ;  but  be  that  their  shame. 

Shall  men  of  talents,  fit  to  rule  mankind, 

Stoop  to  mean  wiles,  that  would  disgrace  a  fool ; 

And  lose  the  thanks  friends  they  serve  ]  355 

For  who  can  thank  the  man,  he  cannot 

Why  so  much  cover  \     It  defeats  itself. 
Ye  that  know  all  things !  know  ye  not,  men's  hearts 
Are  therefore  known,  because  they  are  conceal'd  ? 
For  why  conceal'd  \ — The  cause  they  need  not  tell.  360 

I  give  him  joy,  that's  awkward  at  a  he ; 
"Whose  feeble  nature  truth  keeps  still  in  awe : 
His  incapacity  is  his  renown. 
'Tis  great,  'tis  manly,  to  disdain  disguise ; 
It  shows  our  spirit,  or  it  proves  our  strength.  365 

Thou  say'st  'tis  needful.     Is  it  therefore  right  \ 
Howe'er,  I  grant  it  some  small  sign  of  grace, 
To  strain  at  an  excuse.     And  wouldst  thou  then 
Escape  that  cruel  need  ]     Thou  mayst  with  ease  ;    - 
Think  no  post  needful  that  demands  a  knave.  370 

346.  Necromanties:  Deceptions,  tricks;  a  term  descriptive  of  the  pre- 
tended art  of  foretelling  future  events  by  holding  communication  with  de- 
parted spirits. 

347.  Game  of  faces  :  Game  of  assuming  an  appearance  of  friendship  when 
hatred  rankles  in  the  heart.  The  same  idea  is  conveyed  under  another 
figure,  and  a  very  original  one,  in  the  next  line. 

352.  Parts:  Talents. 

356.  This  question  is  based  upon  the  foregoing  description  of  men  who 
are  not  what  they  seem  to  be. 

303.  His  incapacity  :  That  is,  to  lie  without  awkwardness. 


872  THE    COMPLAINT. 

When  late  our  civil  helm  was  shifting  hands, 

So  P thought:  think  better  if  you  can. 

But  this,  how  rare  !  the  public  path  of  life 
Is  dirty. — Yet,  allow  that  dirt  its  due, 

It  makes  the  noble  mind  more  noble  still :  375 

The  world's  no  neuter ;  it  will  wound,  or  save ; 
Our  virtue  quench,  or  indignation  fire. 
You  say,  the  world,  well  known,  will  make  a  man. 
The  world,  well  known,  will  give  our  hearts  to  heav'n, 
Or  make  us  demons,  long  before  we  die.  380 

VIRTUE    HAS    HER    DIFFICULTIES    AND    SUFFERINGS. 

To  show  how  fair  the  world,  thy  mistress,  shines, 
Take  either  part,  sure  ills  attend  the  choice ; 
Sure,  though  not  equal,  detriment  ensues. 
Not  virtue's  self  is  deified  on  earth ; 

Virtue  has  her  relapses,  conflicts,  foes ;  385 

Foes  that  ne'er  fail  to  make  her  feel  their  hate. 
Virtue  has  her  peculiar  set  of  pains. 
True ;  friends  to  virtue,  last,  and  least,  complain  ; 
But  if  they  sigh,  can  others  hope  to  smile  ? 
If  wisdom  has  her  miseries  to  mourn,  390 

How  can  poor  folly  lead  a  happy  life  ? 
And  if  both  suffer,  what  has  earth  to  boast, 
Where  he  most  happy,  who  the  least  laments  ? 
Where  much,  much  patience,  the  most  envy'd  state, 
And  some  forgiveness,  needs  the  best  of  friends  ?  395 

For  friend,  or  happy  life,  who  looks  not  higher, 
Of  neither  shall  he  find  the  shadow  here. 

The  world's  sworn  advocate,  without  a  fee, 
Lorenzo  smartly,  with  a  smile  replies : 

'  Thus  far  thy  song  is  right ;  and  all  must  own,  400 

Virtue  has  her  peculiar  set  of  pains. — 
And  joys  peculiar  who  to  vice  denies  } 

371-2.  Dr.  Young's  familiarity  with   political  affairs  and  court  intrigues, 
is  manifested  in  these  lines  and  the  preceding.    Pulteney. 


NIGHT    VIII.  373 

If  vice  it  is,  with  nature  to  comply  : 

If  pride  and  sense  are  so  predominant, 

To  check,  not  overcome  them,  makes  a  saint :  405 

Can  nature  in  a  plainer  voice  proclaim 

Pleasure,  and  glory,  the  chief  good  of  man  P 

PLEASURE    AXD    GLORY    NOT    THE    CHIEF    GOOD    OF    MAN. 

Can  pride  and  sensuality  rejoice  ? 
From  purity  of  thought,  all  pleasure  springs  ; 
And  from  an  humble  spirit  all  our  peace.  410 

Ambition,  pleasure  !     Let  us  talk  of  these  : 
Of  these,  the  Porch,  and  Academy  talk'd  : 
Of  these,  each  following  age  had  much  to  say : 
Yet  unexhausted,  still,  the  needful  theme. 
"Who  talks  of  these,  to  mankind  all  at  once  415 

He  talks ;  for  where  the  saint  from  either  free  ? 
Are  these  thy  refuge  \ — Xo  :  these  rush  upon  thee ; 
Thy  vitals  seize,  and,  vulture-like,  devour. 
I'll  try,  if  I  can  pluck  thee  from  thy  rock, 
Prometheus  !  from  this  barren  ball  of  earth.  AilO 

If  reason  can  unchain  thee,  thou  art  free. 

409.  All  pleasure,  he. :  This  remark  of  our  author  is  not  supported  by 
experience,  but  contradicted,  unless  some  qualifying  epithet  be  applied  to 
pleasure,  such  as  true,  unmingled,  or.  by  all  he  means,  the  greatest  amount 
of  pleasurable  emotion.     See  on  639 — 67S. 

412.  The  Porch  and  Academy:  The  instructors  in  those  places  in  Athens. 
The  former,  occupied  by  the  Stoics,  has  been  explained  in  a  former  note 
The  latter  word  is  to  be  pronounced  with  an  accent  on  the  third  syllable. 

The  academy  of  Athens  was  a  public  garden  or  grove  in  the  suburbs  of 
that  city-  named  from  Academus,  who  presented  it  to  the  citizens  as  a  place 
for  <rvmnastic  exercises.  Within  its  limits  Plato  afterwards  owned  a  small 
garden,  in  which  he  opened  a  school.  Hence  arose  the  Academic  sect,  of 
which  he  was  the  founder.     Plato  was  born,  B.  C.  429. — Antkon's  Classical 

Dirt. 

420.  Prometheus:  The  classical  legend  is,  that  Prometheus.,  one  of  the 
Titans,  offended  Jupiter  by  teaching  mankind  the  arts,  especially  the  use  of 
fire.  As  a  punishment,  he  was  chained  to  a  rock  on  Mount  Caucasus, 
where  a  vulture  was  appointed  to  prey  upon  his  liver,  which  grew  agaip  at 


374  THE    COMPLAINT. 


IN    WHAT    TRUE    GREATNESS    DOES    NOT    CONSIST. 

And  first,  thy  Caucasus,  ambition,  calls  : 
Mountain  of  torments !  eminence  of  woes  ! 
Of  courted  woes  !  and  courted  through  mistake  ? 
'Tis  not  ambition  charms  thee;  'tis  a  cheat  425 

Will  make  thee  start,  as  H at  his  Moor. 

Dost  gra^p  at  greatness  ?     First,  know  what  it  is  : 

Think'st  thou  thy  greatness  in  distinction  lies  '. 

Not  in  the  feather,  wave  it  e'er  so  high. 

By  fortune  stuck,  to  mark  us  from  the  throng,  430 

Is  glory  lodged  :  'tis  lodged  in  the  reverse  ; 

In  that  which  joins,  in  that  which  equals  all. 

The  monarch  and  his  slave  :  '  a  deathless  soul, 

Unbounded  prospect,  and  immortal  kin, 

A  Father  God,  and  brothers  in  the  skies  :'  435 

Elder,  indeed,  in  time  ;  but  less  remote 

In  excellence,  perhaps,  than  thought  by  man  : 

"Why  greater  what  can  fall,  than  what  can  rise  ? 

If  still  delirious,  now,  Lorenzo,  go ; 
And  with  thy  full-blown  brothers  of  the  world,  440 

Throw  scorn  around  thee  :  cast  it  on  thy  slaves  ; 
Thy  slaves,  and  equals  :  how  scorn  cast  on  them 
Rebounds  on  thee  !     If  man  is  mean,  as  man, 
Art  thou  a  god  ?     If  fortune  makes  him  so, 
Beware  the  consequence  :  a  maxim  that,  445 

night  so  as  to  be  ready  for  the  vulture's  operations  by  day.  From  this 
terrible  condition  he  was  finally  delivered  by  Hercules. 

The  legend  is  a  most  expressive  illustration  of  the  idea  which  our  author 
conveys  of  Lorenzo,  under  the  influence  of  ambition  and  appetite  for  sensual 
pleasure. 

422.  Thy  Caucasus,  ambition:  This  is  not  a  happy  application  of  the 
above  legend,  for  we  had  just  been  led  by  our  author  to  consider  the  vulture 
on  Mount  Caucasus  as  a  representative  of  ambition,  and  Caucasus  as  a  sym- 
bol of  the  earth,  on  which  the  tortures  of  ambition  are  felt  by  Lorenzo. 

432.   Equals  all :  Makes  all  equal. 

438.    What  can  fall :  The  angels.      What  can  rise  :  Man. 


NIGHT    VIII.  373 

Which  draws  a  monstrous  picture  of  mankind, 

re,  in  the  drapery,  the  man  is  lost ; 
Externals  flutt'ring,  and  the  soul  forgot. 
Thy  greatest  glory  when  di-posed  to  boast, 

ast  that  aloud,  in  which  thy  servants  share.  4.30 

We  wisely  strip  the  steed  we  mean  to  buy  r 
Judsre  we,  in  their  caparisons,  of  men  ? 
It  nought  avails  thee,  where,  but  what,  thou  art ; 
All  the  d>  -  of  this  little  life 

Are  quite  cutaneous,  foreign  to  the  man,  455 

When,  through  death's  streights,  earth's  subtle  serpents  creep, 
Which  wriggle  into  wealth,  or  climb  renown, 
As  crooked  Satan  the  forbidden  tree. 

455.  Cutaneous :  Rather  a  singular  epithet,  and  wholly  unsuitable  in  any- 
thing like  its  common  acceptation.  It  must  here  mean  superficial,  that 
which  is  not  essential,  that  which  merely  covers  the  m 

.'rts:  Narrow  passages.  The  punctuation  at  the  close  of  the 
458th  line  we  have  taken  the  liberty  to  alter,  from  a  comma  to  a 
period,  considering  the  change  necessary  to  the  elucidation  of  the  passage. 

Aspirants  to  office  are  here  represented  as  worms  or  serpents,  creeping  or 
climbing  upward  to  distinction,  as  Satan,  in  the  form  of  a  serpent,  climbed 
the  tree  in  Paradise. 

453.  Crooked  Satan  :  Satan  having  assumed  the  form  of  a  serpent.  The 
author,  doubtless,  had  in  his  mind  the  description  which  Milton  furnishes 
of  the  incident;  it  will,  perhaps,  be  gratifying  to  make  here  a  short  ex- 
tract: 

-    ^ake  the  enemy  of  mankind,  inclosed 
In  ser;  I  toward  Ere 

Addn  .  not  with  indented  wave, 

■a  t'ue  ground,  as  since,  but  on  his  rear, 
Circular  base  of  :  ist  tower" d 

:  above  fold  a  surging  maze,  his  head 
ted  aloft,  and  carbuncle  his  .:■ 
With  burnislTd  neck  of  verdant  gold,  erect 
Ami 

Fl    .ted  redundant     Pleasing  was  his  shape, 
And  lovely,  Arc. 

Satan,  in  the  form  of  the  serpent,  afterwards  thus   describes   to  Eve  his 

ascent  of  the  forbidden  tree : 

About  the  mossy  trunk  I  wound  me  soon, 

For  high  from  pure 

:•  tree 
All  other  tx  !ike  desire 


376  FHE    COMPLAINT. 

They  leave  their  parti -colour' d  robe  behind, 

All  that  now  glitters,  while  they  rear  aloft  460 

Their  brazen  crests,  and  hiss  at  us  below. 

Of  fortune's  fuens  strip  them,  yet  alive ; 

Strip  them  of  body,  too  ;  nay,  closer  still, 

Away  with  all,  but  moral,  in  their  minds ; 

And  let,  what  then  remains,  impose  their  name,  46o 

Pronounce  them  weak,  or  worthy  ;  great,  or  mean. 

How  mean  that  snuff  of  glory  fortune  lights, 

And  death  puts  out !     Dost  thou  demand  a  test 

(A  test,  at  once,  infallible,  and  short) 

Of  real  greatness  ?     That  man  greatly  lives,  470 

Whate'er  his  fate  or  fame,  who  greatly  dies ; 

High-flushed  with  hope,  where  heroes  shall  despair. 

If  this  a  true  criterion,  many  courts, 

Illustrious,  might  afford  but  few  grandees. 

IN    WHAT   TRUE    GREATNESS    DOES    CONSIST. 

Th'  Almighty,  from  his  throne,  on  earth  surveys  475 

Nought  greater  than  an  honest  humble  heart ; 
An  humble  heart,  his  residence  !  pronounced 
His  second  seat ;  and  rival  to  the  skies. 
The  private  path,  the  secret  acts  of  men, 
If  noble,  far  the  noblest  of  our  lives  !  480 

Longing  and  envying  stood,  but  could  not  reach. 

Amid  the  tree  now  got,  where  plenty  hung 

Tempting  so  nigh,  &c— Paradise  Lost,  Bk.  IX.  494—504,  5S9— 595. 

462.  Fucus :  Paint,  false  show. 

4G7.  Snuff  of  glory  :  Allusion  is  made  to  the  glimmering  light  of  the  wick 
of  a  candle  when  about  to  burn  out ;  or  to  the  burning  wick  which  is  easily 
put  out.  The  figure  is  designed  to  show,  not  only  that  human  glory  is 
easily  destroyed  by  death,  but  that  it  is  a  paltry  and  contemptible  affair. 

470.  Greatly  lives :  Lives  in  a  dignified  and  honourable  manner. 

477.  His  residence :  The  idea  is  derived  from  Isaiah  lvii.  15:  "Thus  saith 
the  high  and  lofty  One,  that  inhabiteth  eternity,  whose  name  is  Holy;  I 
dwell  in  the  high  and  holy  place,  with  him  also  that  is  of  a  contrite  and 
humble  spirit." 


.iGUf    VIII. 


377 


How  lor  above  Lorenzo's  glory  sits 
Tlr  illustrious  master  of  a  name  unknown  ; 
Whose  worth  unrivalled,  and  unwitnessed,  loves 
Life's  3,  where  gods  converse  with  men ; 

And  peace,  beyond  the  world's  conception,  smiles  !  485 

As  thou,  (now  dark,)  before  we  part,  shalt  >    . 
But  thy  great  soul  this  sculking  glory  scorns. 
Lorenzo's  sick,  but  when  Lorenzo's  seen ; 
And,  when  he  shrugs  at  public  bus'ness,  lies. 
Denied  the  public  eye,  the  public  voice,  490 

As  if  he  lived  on  others'  breath,  he  dies. 
Fain  would  he  make  the  world  his  pedestal ; 
Mankind,  the  gazers  ;  the  sole  figure,  he. 
Knows  he,  that  mankind  praise  against  their  will, 
And  mix  as  much  detraction  as  they  can  ?  495 

Knows  he,  that  faithless  fame  her  whisper  has, 
As  well  as  trumpet  ?  that  his  vanity 
Is  so  much  tickled  from  not  hearing  all  ? 

4S1-S4.  How  far  above.  &c. :  Dr.  Thomas  Brown,  in  quoting  the?e  niies 
observes  that  if  there  are  many  who  regret  that  they  are  doomed  tc  the 
shade,  there  are  many  too  who  repent  that  they  have  ever  quitted  it ;  or.  at 
least,  there  are  many  who  might  so  repent,  if  the  loss  of  this  very  power  of 
repentance  were  not  itself  an  evil,  and  one  of  the  worst  evils  of  guilty  dis- 
tinction.    <:  Bene  qui  latuit,  bene  vixit." 

4S4.   Gods :  Angels. 

49S.  From  not  hearing  all :  This,  and  the  other  considerations  here  ad- 
duced, are  adapted  lo  diminish  greatly  a  love  for  public  applause.  Dr. 
Brown  has  well  observed  :  If  all  were  indeed  heard — the  detracting  whispers 
of  fame  as  well  as  her  clamorous  applause — what  lessons  of  humility  would 
be  taught  to  the  vain  and  credulous,  whose  ears  the  whispers  cannot  reach, 
and  who,  therefore,  listening  only  to  the  louder  flatteries  that  are  intended 
to  reach  them,  consider  the  praise  which  is  addressed  to  them  as  but  a  small 
part  of  that  universal  praise  which  is  everywhere,  as  they  believe,  pro- 
claiming their  merits;  and  in  their  reputation  of  a  few  months,  which  is  to 
fade  perhaps  before  the  close  of  a  single  year,  regard  themselves  as  already 
possessing  immortality  !  In  our  estimates  of  glory,  however,  as  a  source 
of  distinction,  the  whispers  which  are  not  heard  are  to  be  taken  into  account 
with  the  praises  which  are  heard ;  and  then,  if  the  heartfelt  virtues  of  both 
be  the  same,  how  near  to  equilibrium  will  be  the  happiness  of  the  obscure 
and  the  illustrious ! 


3*78  THE    COMPLAINT. 

Knows  this  all-knower,  that  from  itch  of  praise, 

Or,  from  an  itch  more  sordid,  when  he  shines,  500 

Taking  his  conntiy  by  five  hundred  ears, 

Senates  at  once  admire  him  and  despise, 

With  modest  laughter  lining  loud  applause, 

Which  makes  the  smile  more  mortal  to  his  fame  ? 

His  fame,  which  (like  the  mighty  Caesar)  crowned  505 

With  lanrels,  in  full  senate  greatly  falls, 

By  seeming  friends,  that  honour  and  destroy. 

We  rise  in  glory,  as  we  sink  in  pride  : 

Where  boasting  ends,  there  dignity  begins  : 

And  yet,  mistaken  beyond  all  mistake,  510 

The  blind  Lorenzo's  proud — of  being  proud  ; 

And  dreams  himself  ascending  in  his  fall. 

An  eminence,  though  fancied,  turns  the  brain : 
All  vice  wants  hellebore ;  but,  of  all  vice, 
Pride  loudest  calls,  and  for  the  largest  bowl ;  515 

Because,  all  other  vice  unlike,  it  flies, 
In  fact,  the  point,  in  fancy  most  pursued. 
Who  court  applause,  oblige  the  world  in  this ; 
They  gratify  man's  passion  to  refuse. 

Superior  honour,  when  assumed,  is  lost ;  520 

E'en  good  men  turn  banditti,  and  rejoice, 
Like  Kouli  Kan,  in  plunder  of  the  proud. 

506.  Greatly  falls  :  Conspicuously  or  fatally  falls,  by  the  agency  of  seem- 
ing friends.  Brutus.  Casca,  and  others,  who  poignarded  Caesar  in  the  senate- 
house,  were  ostensibly,  up  to  this  time,  his  friends.  Hence,  says  Shakspeare, 
in  reference  to  Brutus : 

This  was  the  most  unkindest  cut  of  all : 

For  when  the  noble  Casar  saw  him  stab, 

Ingratitude,  more  strong  than  traitors'  arms, 

Quite  vanquished  him :  then  burst  his  mighty  heart ; 

And,  in  his  mantle  muffling  up  his  face, 

Even  at  the  base  of  Pompey's  statue, 

Which  all  the  while  ran  blood,  great  Cassar  fell. 

Oh  what  a  fall  was  there,  my  countrymen  ! 

514.  Hellebore :  A  poisonous  drug,  used  as  an  evacuant. 

522.  Kouli  Kiiiu  or  Khan.  This  was  the  famous  Nadir  Schah,  or  Thamas 
Kouli  Khan,  a  Persian  king,  a  conqueror  and  usurper,  born  in  1686. 
Placed  at  the  head  of  an  army,  he  gained  a  signal  victory  over  the  LTsbecfe 


NIGHT    VIII.  379 


CHARMS    OF    PLEASURE,    FOR    ALL    CLASSES 

Though  somewhat  disconcerted,  steady  still 
To  the  world's  cause,  with  half  a  face  of  joy, 

Lorenzo  cries, — 'Be,  then,  ambition  cast;  525 

Ambition's  dearer  far  stands  unimpeach'd, 

Gay  pleasure  !     Proud  ambition  is  her  slave ; 

For  her,  he  soars  at  great,  and  hazards  ill ; 

For  her,  he  fights,  and  bleeds,  or  overcomes ; 

And  paves  Lis  way  with  crowns,  to  reach  her  smile :  530 

Who  can  resist  her  charms  V — Or,  should  ?  Lorenzo. 

What  mortal  shall  resist,  where  angels  yield  ? 

Pleasure's  the  mistress  of  ethereal  powers ; 

For  her  contend  the  rival  gods  above  : 

Pleasure's  the  mistress  of  the  world  below  ;  535 

And  well  it  is  for  man  that  pleasure  charms : 

How  would  all  stagnate,  but  for  pleasure's  ray  ! 

How  would  the  frozen  stream  of  action  cease  ! 

"What  is  the  pulse  of  this  so  busy  world  ? 

The  love  of  pleasure  :  that,  through  every  vein,  540 

Throws  motion,  warmth  ;  and  shuts  out  death  from  life. 

Tartars.  This  excited  the  jealousy  of  his  superior,  and  the  command  was 
given  to  another  person.  Nadir  remonstrated,  and  for  that  was  bastinadoed. 
Stung  with  the  disgrace  of  such  unjust  treatment,  he  joined  a  band  of  rob- 
bers, and  with  them  ravaged  the  country  of  his  birth,  and  put  to  death  his 
uncle,  who  had  treated  him  ill  some  years  before.  Schah  Thamas.  king 
of  Persia,  being  at  this  time  hard  pressed  by  the  Turks  and  Affghans,  took 
Nadir  into  his  service.  These  enemies  being  vanquished  by  the  bravery  of 
this  man,  he  was  honoured  with  the  title  of  Thamas Kouli Khan.  Afterwards 
he  seized  his  patron,  deposed  him,  and  ascended  the  throne  of  Persia  him- 
self. His  next  enterprise  was  an  attack  upon  the  Great  Mogul.  He 
marched  to  India  with  an  immense  army,  and  reached  Delhi  in  1738.  Some 
tumult  of  the  inhabitants  arising,  he  massacred  one  hundred  thousand  of 
them.  He  then  concluded  a  treaty  of  peace  with  the  Mogul,  whose 
daughter  he  married,  receiving  with  her  as  a  dowry  some  of  the  richest 
provinces  of  the  empire  contiguous  to  Persia.  In  this  expedition  he  carried 
away,  and  distributed  among  his  officers,  it  is  estimated  in  valuables  not 
less  than  $500,000,000.  These  statements  explain  and  justify  the  allusions 
to  his  conduct  which  our  author  makes. 


380  THE    COMPLAINT. 

Though  various  are  the  tempers  of  mankind, 
Pleasure's  gay  family  holds  all  in  chains : 
Some  most  affect  the  black  ;  and  some  the  fair ; 
Some  honest  pleasure  court ;  and  some  obscene.  545 

Pleasures  obscene  are  various,  as  the  throng 
Of  passions,  that  can  err  in  human  hearts ; 
Mistake  their  objects,  or  transgress  their  bounds. 
Think  you  there's  but  one  whoredom  ?      \Vhoredom  all, 
But  when  our  reason  licenses  delight.  550 

Dost  doubt,  Lorenzo  ?     Thou  shalt  doubt  no  more. 
Thy  father  chides  thy  gallantries  ;  yet  hugs 
An  ugly  common  harlot  in  the  dark  ; 
A  rank  adulterer  with  others'  gold  ! 

And  that  hag,  vengeance,  in  a  corner,  charms.  555 

Hatred  her  brothel  has,  as  well  as  love, 
"Where  horrid  epicures  debauch  in  blood. 
"Whate'er  the  motive,  pleasure  is  the  mark : 

558 — 5G7.  V/hate'er  the  motive,  &c. :  This,  indeed  (says  Dr.  Thomas 
Brown) ,  though  in  verse,  is  as  sound  philosophy  as  much  duller  philosophy 
of  the  same  kind ;  but  powerful  as  it  may  be  in  poetic  antithesis,  it  is  as 
verse  only  that  it  is  powerful,  not  as  a  statement  of  philosophical  truths.  We 
desire,  indeed,  all  these  objects,  and,  however  ill-fitted  some  of  them  may 
appear  to  be  productive  of  delight,  we  may,  perhaps,  feel  pleasure  in  all 
these  objects,  as  we  certainly  should  feel  pain  if  we  were  not  to  obtain 
what  we  desire,  whatever  the  object  of  desire  may  have  been.  But  it  is 
not  the  pleasure  which  was  the  circumstance  that  prompted  our  desire 
when  it  arose :  it  was  the  desire  previously  awakened  which  was  accom- 
panied with  pleasure,  or  was  productive  of  pleasure,  the  pleasure  being  in 
all  these  cases  the  effect  of  the  previous  desire,  and  necessarily  presup- 
posing it.  I  am  aware,  indeed,  that  according  to  the  system  of  many 
philosophers,  who  consider  our  own  selfish  enjoyment  as  the  sole  object  of 
our  wishes,  to  speak  of  other  desires  after  mentioning  the  desire  of  pleasure 
as  one  of  our  emotions,  must  be  absolutely  superfluous,  since  the  desire  of 
pleasure,  according  to  them,  must,  in  some  one  of  its  forms,  be  the  desire  of 
everything  which  man  can  immediately  desire.  But,  though  everything 
which  we  desire  must  have  seemed  to  us  desirable,  as  the  very  fact  of  the 
desire  denotes,  and  though  the  attainment  of  every  such  desire  must  be 
attended  with  pleasure,  it  does  not  therefore  follow  that  the  pleasure  which 
truly  attends  the  fulfilment  of  desire  was  the  primary  circumstance  which 
excited  the  desire  itself. — Philo.  of  the  Human  Mind,  vol.  iii.,  pp.  16 — 20. 


NIGHT    VIII.  881 

For  her  the  black  assassin  draws  his  sword; 

For  her,  dark  statesmen  trim  their  midnight  lamp,  560 

To  which  no  single  sacrifice  may  fall ; 

For  her,  the  saint  abstains  ;  the  miser  starves  ; 

The  stoic  proud,  for  pleasure,  pleasure  scorn'd ; 

For  her,  affliction's  daughters  grief  indulge, 

And  find,  or  hope,  a  luxury  in  tear- ;  060 

For  her,  guilt,  shame,  toil,  danger,  we  de  y  ; 

And,  with  an  aim  voluptuous,  rush  on  death. 

Thus  universal  her  despotic  power  ! 

And  as  her  empire  wide,  her  praise  is  just. 

563.  The  stoic  proud.  Sec. :  The  error  of  the  ancient  inquirers  into  happi- 
ness, consisted  in  excessive  simplification — in  the  assertion  of  one  particular 
form  of  good,  as  if  it  were  all  thai  deserved  the  name,  and  the  consequent 
exclusion  of  other  forms,  if  good,  that  could  not  be  reduced  to  the  favourite 
species.  He  who  had  confined  all  happiness  to  the  pleasure  of  the  senses 
(as  Epicurus) ,  was,  of  course,  under  the  necessity  of  denying  that  there 
was  any  moral  pleasure  whatever  which  had  not  a  direct  relation  to  some 
mere  sensual  delight ;  while  the  asserter  of  a  different  system — that  of  the 
Stoics,  who  had  affirmed  virtue  only  to  be  good — was,  of  course,  under  an 
equal  necessity  of  denying  that  any  pleasure  of  the  senses,  however  intense 
or  pure,  could  be  even  the  slightest  element  of  happiness.  Both  were  right 
in  what  they  admitted,  wrong  in  what  they  excluded,  and  the  paradoxes 
into  which  they  were  led  were  necessary  consequences  of  the  excessive 
simplification. 

A  wider  and  more  judicious  view  of  our  nature  would  have  shown  that 
human  happiness  is  as  various  as  the  functions  of  man — that  the  Deity  who 
has  united  us  by  so  many  relations  to  the  whole  living  and  inanimate 
world,  has,  in  these  relations,  surrounded  us  with  means  of  varied  enjoy- 
ment, which  it  is  as  truly  impossible  for  us  not  to  partake  with  satisfaction, 
as  to  behold  the  very  scene  itself  which  is  forever  in  all  its  be'auty  before 
our  eyes — that  happiness  is  the  name  of  a  series  of  agreeable  feelings,  and 
of  such  a  series  only ;  and  that,  whatever  is  capable  of  exciting  agreeable 
feelings,  is,  therefore,  or  may  be,  to  that  extent,  a  source  of  happiness. 

Man  is  a  sensitive,  an  intellectual,  a  moral,  arul  a  religious  being.  There 
are  agreeable  feelings  which  belong  to  him  in  each  of  these  capacities — a 
happiness,  in  short,  sensitive,  intellectual,  moral,  and  religious.  Though  we 
may  affect,  in  verbal  accordance  with  some  system,  to  deny  any  of  these 
various  forms  of  good,  it  is  only  in  words  that  we  can  so  deny  them. — • 
Brown's  Phil,  of  the  Mind,  iii.,  560. 

567.  Aim  voluptuous :  Aim  at  pleasure. 


382  THE    COMPLAINT. 

Patron  of  pleasure  !  doater  on  delight !  570 

I  am  thy  rival ;  pleasure  I  profess  ; 

Pleasure  the  purpose  of  my  gloomy  song. 

Pleasure  is  nought  hut  virtue's  gayer  name : 

I  wrong  her  still,  I  rate  her  worth  too  low  ; 

Virtue  the  root,  and  pleasure  is  the  flower;  575 

And  honest  Epicurus'  foes  were  fools. 

But  this  sounds  harsh,  and  gives  the  wise  offence : 
If  o'erstrain'd  wisdom  still  retains  the  name. 
How  knits  austerity  her  cloudy  brow, 

And  blames,  as  bold  and  hazardous,  the  praise  580 

Of  pleasure  to  mankind,  unpraised,  too  dear ! 
Ye  modern  stoics  !  hear  my  soft  reply  : — 
Their  senses  men  will  trust ;  we  can't  impose ; 
Or,  if  we  could,  is  imposition  right  ? 

Own  honey  sweet ;  but,  owning,  add  this  sting;  585 

'  When  mix'd  with  poison,  it  is  deadly  too.' 
Truth  never  was  indebted  to  a  lie. 
Is  nought  but  virtue  to  be  praised,  as  good  ? 
Why  then  is  health  preferred  before  disease  ? 

576.  Honest  Epicurus'  foes :  The  Stoics.  Epicurus  was  born  341  B.  C. 
soon  after  the  death  of  Plato,  and  in  306  B.  C,  became,  at  Athens,  the 
founder  of  the  Epicurean  school  of  philosophers.  It  is  not  a  settled  point 
what  his  ethical  doctrines  were,  and  hence  they  have  been  represented  in  a 
widely  different  manner.  Some  consider  them  as  favourable  to  virtue,  and 
others  exactly  the  reverse.  Anthon  says  that,  setting  out  from  the  two  facts 
that  man  is  susceptible  of  pleasure  and  pain,  and  that  he  seeks  the  one  and 
avoids  the  other,  Epicurus  propounded  that  it  is  a  man's  duty  to  endeavour 
to  increase  to  the  utmost  his  pleasures,  and  diminish  to  the  utmost  his 
pains,  choosing  that  which  tends  to  pleasure  rather  than  that  which  tends  to 
pain,  and  that  which  tends  to  a  greater  pleasure  or  to  a  lesser  pain,  rather 
than  that  which  tends  respectively  to  a  lesser  pleasure  or  a  greater  pain. 
He  used  the  terms  pleasure  and  pain  in  the  most  comprehensive  way,  as 
including  pleasure  and  pain  of  both  mind  and  body ;  and  he  esteemed  the 
pleasures  and  pains  of  the  mind  as  incomparably  greater  than  those  of  the 
body.  Making,  then,  good  and  evil,  or  virtue  and  vice,  depend  on  a  ten- 
dency to  increase  pleasure  and  diminish  pain,  or  the  opposite,  he  arrived,  as 
he  easily  might  do,  at  the  several  virtues  to  be  inculcated  and  vices  to  be 
denounced  He  lived  in  the  most  frugal  and  virtuous  manner,  though  it 
was  the  delight  of  the  enemies  of  Epicurus  to  represent  it  difFerentlv. 


RIGHT   vnr.  38.J 

What  nature  loves  is  good,  without  our  leave;  590 

And  where  no  future  drawback  cries,  '  Beware ;'     . 

Pleasure,  though  not  from  virtue,  should  prevail. 

'Tis  balm  to  life,  and  gratitude  to  lleav'n  ; 

How  cold  our  thanks  for  bounties  unenjoy'd ! 

The  love  of  pleasure  is  man's  eldest  bom,  595 

Born  in  his  cradle,  living  to  his  tomb ; 

Wisdom,  her  youngest  sister,  though  more  grave, 

Was  meant  to  minister,  and  not  to  mar, 

Imperial  pleasure,  queen  of  human  hearts. 

THE  NATURE,  PURPOSE,  AND  PARENTAGE  OF  PLEASUH.i:. 

Lorenzo  !  thou,  her  majesty's  renown'd,  600 

Though  uncoift,  counsel,  learned  in  the  world  ! 
Who  think'st  thyself  a  Murray,  with  disdain 
Mayst  look  on  me.     Yet,  my  Demosthenes ! 
Canst  thou  plead  pleasure's  cause  as  well  as  I  ? 
Know'st  thou  her  nature,  purpose,  parentage  ?  005 

Attend  my  song,  and  thou  shalt  know  them  all ; 
And  know  thyself;  and  know  thyself  to  be 
(Strange  truth  !)  the  most  abstemious  man  alive. 
Tell  not  Calista  :  she  will  laugh  thee  dead  ; 

Or  send  thee  to  her  hermitage  with  L .  610 

Absurd  presumption  !     Thou  who  never  knew'st 

A  serious  thought !  shalt  thou  dare  dream  of  joy  ! 

No  man  e'er  found  a  happy  life  by  chance, 

Or  yawn'd  it  into  being  with  a  wish  ; 

Or,  with  the  snout  of  grov'liug  appetite,  616 

597-9.  In  these  lines  Wisdom  and  Pleasure  are  beautifully  personified. 

601.  Uncoift:  Not  wearing  the  official  cap. 

602.  Murray :  A  distinguished  lawyer. 

603.  My  Danosthcncs:  An  allusion  to  the  most  distinguished  orator  of 
ancient  Greece. 

609.   Calista  •'  Some  attractive  friend  of  Lorenzo. 

615-17.  The  imagery  here  employed  is,  perhaps,  mere  expressive  than 
any  other  that  could  be  used,  but  it  is  hardly  dignified  enough  to  find  a  place 
in  the  "  Night  Thoughts." 


£84  1HE    COMPLAINT. 

E'er  smelt  it  out,  and  grubbed  it  from  the  dirt. 

An  art  it  is,  and  must  be  learnt ;  and  learnt 

"With  unremitting  effort,  or  be  lost ; 

And  leave  us  perfect  blockheads  in  our  bliss. 

The  clouds  may  drop  down  titles  and  estates;  P20 

Wealth  may  seek  us  ;  but  wisdom  must  be  sought ; 

Sought  beyond  all ;  but  (how  unlike  all  else 

We  seek  on  earth !)  'tis  never  sought  in  vain. 

First,  pleasure's  birth,  rise,  strength,  and  grandeur 
Brought  forth  by  wisdom,  nursed  by  discipline,  625 

By  patience  taught,  by  perseverance  crown'd, 
She  rears  her  head  majestic ;  round  her  throne, 
Erected  in  the  bosom  of  the  just, 
Each  virtue,  listed,  forms  her  manly  guard. 
For  what  are  virtues?  (formidable  name  !)  630 

What,  but  the  fountain,  or  defence,  of  joy  ? 
Why,  then,  commanded  ?     Need  mankind  commands, 
At  once  to  merit,  and  to  make,  their  bliss  ? — 
Great  Legislator  !  scarce  so  great,  as  kind ! 
If  men  are  rational,  and  love  delight,  635 

Thy  gracious  law  but  flatters  human  choice  ". 
In  the  transgression  lies  the  penalty  ; 
And  they  the  most  indulge  who  most  obey. 
Of  pleasure,  next,  the  final  cause  explore ; 
Its  mighty  purpose,  its  important  end.  010 

Not  to  turn  human  brutal,  but  to  build 
Divine  on  human,  pleasure  came  from  heav'n. 
In  aid  to  reason  was  the  goddess  sent ; 
To  call  up  all  its  strength  by  such  a  charm. 
Pleasure  first  succours  virtue ;  in  return,  645 

Virtue  gives  pleasure  an  eternal  reign. 
What  but  the  pleasure  of  food,  friendship,  faith, 
Supports  life  nat'ral,  civil,  and  divine  ? 
'Tis  from  the  pleasure  of  repast,  we  live ; 
'Tis  from  the  pleasure  of  applause,  we  please;  650 

'Tis  from  the  pleasure  of  belief,  we  pray, 
(All  pray'r  would  cease,  if  unbelieved  the  prize  :) 
650-2.  Th«>  statpmnits   in   these   liii^s  rwoA   *<->mr>  qualification  t"  a     rmj 


NIGHT    VIII.  .':fi5 

It  serves  ourselves,  our  species,  and  our  God  ; 

And  to  serve  more,  is  past  tne  sphere  of  man. 

Glide,  then,  for  ever,  pleasure's  sacred  stream  !  655 

Through  Eden,  as  Euphrates  ran,  it  runs, 

And  fosters  ev'ry  growth  of  happy  life ; 

Makes  a  new  Eden  where  it  flows  ; — but  such 

As  must  be  lost,  Lorenzo,  by  thy  fall. 

'  What  mean  I  by  thy  fall  V — Thou'lt  shortly  see, 
"While  pleasure's  nature  is  at  large  displayed  ; 
Already  sung  her  origin  and  ends. 
Those  glorious  ends,  by  kind,  or  by  degree, 
When  pleasure  violates,  'tis  then  a  vice, 

A  vengeance  too  ;  it  hastens  into  pain  :  6G5 

From  due  refreshment,  life,  health,  reason,  joy ; 
From  wild  excess,  pain,  grief,  distraction,  death ; 
Heav'n's  justice  this  proclaims  and  that  her  love. 
What  greater  evil  can  I  wish  my  foe, 

Than  his  full  draught  of  pleasure,  from  a  cask  670 

Unbroach'd  by  just  authority,  ungauged 
By  temperance,  by  reason  unrefined  ? 
A  thousand  daemons  lurk  within  the  lee. 

with  truth.  They  imply  that  no  attempt  is  even  made  \a please  others, 
except  from  a  regard  to  the  praise  we  thence  anticipate,  and  that  all  prayer 
to  God  is  prompted  by  the  pleasure  expected.  It  is  but  charity  to  suppose, 
that  Dr  Young  here  strains  and  narrows  down  the  truth,  for  the  sake  of 
making  out  an  argument  on  the  point  under  discussion.  We  cannot  think 
that  he  would  deny  the  existence  of  the  operation  of  much  higher,  purer, 
and  more  disinterested  motives  to  prompt  to  these  actions.  Why  may  not 
benevolence  excite  us  to  please  others '(  or,  why  may  not  a  regard  »o  the 
Divine  command  to  do  so  be  a  sufficient  motive  ?  So  in  regard  to  rra\er. 
Love  to  God,  desire  of  holiness,  and  a  benevolent  regard  to  the  happiness  of 
mankind,  are,  in  the  pious  mind,  far  more  potent  motives  to  prayer  than  the 
selfish  one  made  so  unduly  prominent  by  our  author. 

659.  By  thy  fall:  Allusion  is  made  to  the  fall  of  our  first  parents  :n  Para 
dise. 

664.   When  pleasure  violates,  &c. :  The  results  of  improper  and  excessive 
indulgence  are  set  forth. 

673.   Lee:  Dregs. 

17 


080  THE    COMPLAINT. 

Heav'n,  others,  aud  ourselves  !  uninjured  these, 

Drink  deep  ;  the  deeper,  then,  the  more  divine  :  675 

Angels  are  angels  from  indulgence  there  ; 

'Tis  unrepenting  pleasure  makes  a  god. 

Dost  think  thyself  a  god  from  other  joys  ? 
A  victim  rather  !  shortly  sure  to  bleed. 

The  wrong  must  mourn:  can  Heav'n's  appointments  fail?  680 
Can  man  outwit  Omnipotence  ?  strike  out 
A  self-wrought  happiness  unmeant  by  Him 
Who  made  us,  and  the  world  we  would  enjoy  ? 
Who  forms  an  instrument,  ordains  from  whence 
Its  dissonance,  or  harmony,  shall  rise.  685 

Heav'n  bid  the  soul  this  mortal  frame  inspire ; 
Bid  virtue's  ray  divine  inspire  the  soul 
With  unprecarious  flows  of  vital  joy  ; 
And,  without  breathing,  man  as  well  might  hope 
For  life,  as,  without  piety,  for  peace.  690 

PIETY    AND    VIRTUE    COMPARED THEIR    PLEASURES. 

'  Is  virtue,  then,  and  piety  the  same  V 
No  ;  piety  is  more  :  'tis  virtue's  source ; 
Mother  of  ev'ry  worth,  as  that  of  joy. 
Men  of  the  world  this  doctrine  ill  digest : 
They  smile  at  piety  ;  yet  boast  aloud  C95 

Good  will  to  men ;  nor  know  they  strive  to  part 
What  nature  joins  ;  and  thus  confute  themselves. 
With  piety  begins  all  good  on  earth ; 
'Tis  the  first-born  of  rationality. 

Conscience,  her  first  law  broken,  wounded  lies  ;  700 

Enfeebled,  lifeless,  impotent  to  good ; 
A  feign'd  affection  bounds  her  utmost  pow'r. 
Some  we  can't  love,  but  for  the  Almighty's  snke  : 

674.  Uninjured  these:  The  preceding  W'ords  of  this  line  are  an  exclama- 
tory phrase.  What  follows  may  be  thus  paraphrased: — These  (that  is, 
Heav:n,  others,  and  ourselves)  being  uninjured,  drink  deep  of  pleasure.  The 
deeper  then  (that  is,  while  there  is  no  violation  ot  what  is  due  to  God,  to 
others,  and  ourselves)  the  more,  &c.  676.  There — in  the  manner  jut>t  ex- 
plained. 


NIGHT    VIII.  887 

A  foe  to  God  was  ne'er  true  friend  to  man ; 

Some  sinister  intent  taints  all  he  does  ;  70/5 

And  in  his  kindest  actions  he's  unkind. 

On  piety,  humanity  is  built ; 
And,  on  humanity,  much  happiness ; 
And  yet  still  more  on  piety  itself. 

A  soul  m  commerce  with  her  God,  is  heav'n  ;  7 14 

Feels  not  the  tumults  and  the  shocks  of  life, 
The  whirls  of  passion,  and  the  strokes  of  heart 
A  Deity  believed,  is  joy  begun  ; 
A  Deity  adored,  is  joy  advanced  ; 

A  Deity  beloved,  is  joy  matured.  7\  5 

Each  branch  of  piety  delight  inspires  ; 
Faith  builds  a  bridge  from  this  world  to  the  next 
O'er  death's  dark  gulf,  and  all  its  horror  hides ; 
Praise,  the  sweet  exhalation  of  our  joy, 

That  joy  exalts,  and  makes  it  sweeter  still ;  720 

Pray'r  ardent  opens  heav'n,  lets  down  a  stream 
Of  glory  on  the  consecrated  hour 
Of  man,  in  audience  with  the  Deity. 
Who  worships  the  great  God,  that  instant  joins 
The  first  in  heav'n,  and  sets  his  foot  on  hell.  725 

Lorenzo  !  when  wast  thou  at  church  before  ? 
Thou  think'st  the  service  long ;  but  is  it  just  ? 
Though  just,  unwelcome  ;  thou  hadst  rather  tread 
Unhallow'd  ground ;  the  muse,  to  win  thine  ear, 
Must  take  an  air  less  solemn.     She  complies.  7.30 

Good  conscience !  at  the  sound  the  world  retires  ; 

710.  Commerce:  Communion,  friendship. 

713-15.  An  elegant  climax  is  here  exhihited.  Some  critics  have  an- 
nounced, to  the  disparagement  of  Dr.  Young,  that  he  deals  only  in  theo- 
retical views  of  religion,  and  presents  none  of  the  experimental  kind ;  but 
this,  and  many  other  passages  which  might  be  selected,  may  serve  to  show 
the  unfairness  of  such  a  criticism.  Yet  it  is  matter  of  regret  that  he  does 
not  more  frequently  occupy  his  pages  with  practical  illustrations  of  true 
religion. 

731.   Good  conscience    (at    the    sound  of  which  word    men  of   the    world 


UtiS  TIIK    COMPLAINT. 

Verse  disaffects  it,  and  Lorenzo  smiles  : 

Yet  has  she  her  seraglio  full  of  charms  ; 

And  such  as  age  shall  heighten,  not  impair. 

Art  thou  dejected  ?     Is  thy  mind  o'ercast  ?  735 

Amid  her  fair  ones,  thou  the  fairest  choose, 

To  chase  thy  gloom — '  Go,  fix  some  weighty  truth  ; 

Chain  down  some  passion ;  do  some  gen'rous  good ; 

Teach  ignorance  to  see,  or  grief  to  smile  ; 

Correct  thy  friend  ;  befriend  thy  greatest  foe  ;  740 

Or  with  warm  heart,  and  confidence  divine, 

Spring  up,  and  lay  strong  hold  on  Him  who  made  thee.' 

Thy  gloom  is  scattered,  sprightly  spirits  flow ; 

Though  wither'd  is  thy  vine,  and  harp  unstrung. 

MIRTH    AND    LAUGHTER. 

Dost  call  the  bowl,  the  viol,  and  the  dance,  745 

Loud  mirth,  mad  laughter  ?     Wretched  comforters ! 
Physicians  !  more  than  half  of  thy  disease. 
Laughter,  though  never  censured  yet  as  sin, 
(Pardon  a  thought  that  only  seems  severe) 
Is  half  immoral :  is  it  much  indulged  ?  750 

By  venting  spleen,  or  dissipating  thought, 
It  shews  a  scorner,  or  it  makes  a  fool ; 
And  sins,  as  hurting  others,  or  ourselves. 
'Tis  pride,  or  emptiness,  applies  the  straw, 
That  tickles  little  minds  to  mirth  effuse ;  755 

Of  grief  approaching,  the  portentous  sign  ! 

withdraw)  is  in  this  passage  personified — is  described  as  having  a  seraglio, 
and  fair  ones,  in  allusion  to  the  palace  of  the  Sultan  of  Turkey,  containing 
apartments  for  beautiful  females,  to  minister  to  his  pleasure.  These  fair  oms 
are  described  in  737 — 742.  They  are  certain  actions  which  "good  con- 
science" approves  and  enjoins. 

755.  Effuse  :  Profuse,  excessive. 

756.  'I  said  of  laughter,  it  is  mad;  and  of  mirth,  what  doeth  it?  The 
heart  of  fools  is  in  the  house  of  mirth.  Sorrow  is  better  than  laughter.  As 
the  crackling  of  thorns  under  a  pot,  so  is  the  laughter  of  the  fool." — Eccle- 
siaatcs. 


M  oh;  3$'J 

The  house  of  laughter  makes  a  house  of  wo. 

A  man  triumphant  is  a  monstrous  sight : 

A  man  dejected  is  a  sight  as  mean. 

What  cause  for  triumph,  where  such  ills  abound  ?  760 

What  for  dejection,  where  presides  a  Pow'r, 

"Who  call'd  us  into  being  to  be  bl  - 

So  grieve,  as  conscious,  grief  may  rise  to  joy : 

So  joy,  as  conscious,  joy  to  grief  may  fall. 

Most  true,  a  wise  man  never  will  be  sad  ;  765 

But  neither  will  sonorous,  bubbling  mirth, 

A.  shallow  stream  of  happiness  betray : 

Too  happy  to  be  sportive,  he's  serene. 

Yet  wouldst  thou  laugh  (but  at  thy  own  expense) 
This  counsel  strange  should  I  presume  to  give —  770 

1  Retire,  and  read  thy  Bible,  to  be  gay.' 
There  truths  abound  of  sov'reign  aid  to  peace  ; 
Ah  !  do  not  prize  them  less,  because  inspired, 
As  thou,  and  thine,  are  apt  and  proud  to  do. 
If  not  inspired,  that  pregnant  page  had  stood,  775 

Time's  treasure,  and  the  wonder  of  the  wise  ! 
Thou  think'st,  perhaps,  thy  soul  alone  at  stake  : 
Alas  ! — Should  men  mistake  thee  for  a  fool ; 
"What  man  of  taste  for  genius,  wisdom,  truth, 
Though  tender  of  thy  fame,  could  interpose  •  780 

Believe  me,  sense,  here,  acts  a  double  part, 
And  the  true  critic  is  a  Christian  too. 
But  these,  thou  think'st,  are  gloomy  paths  to  joy. — 
True  joy  in  sunshine  ne'er  was  found  at  first : 
They,  first,  themselves  offend,  who  greatly  please  ;  785 

And  travail  only  gives  us  sound  repose. 
Heav'n  sells  all  pleasure ;  effort  is  the  price  : 
The  joys  of  conquest  are  the  joys  of  man  ; 
And  glory  the  victorious  laurel  spreads 

777.  Thy  soid:  The  welfare  of  thy  soul  in  eternity.  Our  author  adds  to 
this,  that  Lorenzo's  reputation  as  a  man  of  sense  and  an  able  critic,  was  also 
in  peril,  through  neglect  or  contempt  of  the  inspired  volume. 

785.  Please:  That  is,  themselves. 


390  THE    COMPLAINT. 

O'er  pleasure's  pure,  perpetual,  placid  stream.  790 

SUBSTANTIAL   JOYS,    THE    PRODUCT    OF    EXERTION    AND    VIGILANCE. 

There  is  a  time,  -when  toil  must  be  preferr'd, 
Or  joy,  by  mistimed  fondness,  is  undone. 
A  man  of  pleasure  is  a  man  of  pains. 
Thou  wilt  not  take  the  trouble  to  be  blest. 
False  jovs,  indeed,  are  born  from  want  of  thought;  7 do 

From  thought's  full  bent,  and  energy,  the  true ; 
And  that  demands  a  mind  in  equal  poise, 
Remote  from  gloomy  grief  and  glaring  joy. 
Much  joy  not  only  sj>eaks  small  happiness, 
But  happiness  that  shortly  must  expire.  800 

Can  joy,  unbottom'd  in  reflection,  stand  ? 
And,  in  a  tempest,  can  reflection  live  ? 
Can  joy,  like  thine,  secure  itself  an  hour  ! 
Can  joy,  like  thine,  meet  accident  unshock'd  ? 
Or  ope  the  door  to  honest  poverty  ?  805 

Or  talk  with  threat'ning  death,  and  not  turn  pale  ? 
In  such  a  world,  and  such  a  nature,  these 
Are  needful  fundamentals  of  delight : 
These  fundamentals  give  delight  indeed  ; 
Delight,  pure,  delicate,  and  durable  ;  810 

Delight,  unshaken,  masculine,  divine  ; 
A  constant,  and  a  sound,  but  serious  joy. 

Is  joy  the  daughter  of  severity  ? 

790.  The  reader  should  notice  the  alliteration  in  this  line,  every  word  but 
two  beginning  with  the  same  letter. 

793.  This  line  presents  an  alliterated  contrast,  which  is  the  more  striking 
because  it  seems  to  convey  contradictory  ideas,  owing  to  the  ambiguity  in 
the  meaning  of  the  word  pains.  Pleasure,  pain,  begin  with  the  same  letter, 
and  at  first  seem  to  denote  opposite  states  of  feeling ;  but  the  connection 
shows  that  the  latter  word  here  denotes  careful  and  strenuous  exertion. 

797.  And  that :  True  joy  demands  a  mind  in  equal  poise,  equally  balanced. 

807.  These :  Joys  which  are  founded  on  rejlcetion,  are  not  shocked  by  acci- 
dent, nor  banished  by  a  descent  to  honest  poverty,  nor  by  the  prospect  of  con- 
flict with  death. 


NIGHT    VIII. 


301 


It  is  : — Yet  far  ray  doctrine  from  severe. 

'  Rejoice  for  ever  :'     It  becomes  a  man  ;  315 

Exalts,  and  sets  him  nearer  to  the  gods. 

'  Iiejoice  for  ever,'  nature  cries,  '  rejoice ;' 

And  drinks  to  man,  in  her  nectareous  cup, 

Mix'd  up  of  delicates  for  ev'ry  sense; 

To  the  great  Founder  of  the  bounteous  feast,  82G 

Drinks  glory,  gratitude,  eternal  praise  ; 

And  he  that  will  not  pledge  her,  is  a  churl. 

Ill  firmly  to  support,  good  fully  taste, 

Is  the  whole  science  of  felicity. 

Yet  sparing  pledge :  her  bowl  is  not  the  best  825 

Mankind  can  boast. — '  A  rational  repast ; 

Exertion,  vigilance,  a  mind  in  arms  ; 

A  military  discipline  of  thought, 

To  foil  temptation  in  the  doubtful  field ; 

And  ever-waking  ardour  for  the  right ;'  830 

'Tis  these  first  give,  then  guard,  a  cheerful  heart. 

Nought  that  is  right  think  little  ;  well  aware, 

What  reason  bids,  God  bids  ;  by  his  command 

How  aggrandized  the  smallest  thing  we  do  ! 

Thus,  nothing  is  insipid  to  the  wise :  835 

To  thee,  insipid  all,  but  what  is  mad ; 

816.  The  gods  .-  Angels.     Compare  67C-7. 

818.  Nectareous  cup :  Nectar,  in  the  mythology  of  the  Greeks  and 
Romans,  was  the  supposed  drink  of  the  immortal  gods  (ambrosia  being 
their  food),  and  was  fabled  to  contribute  largely  to  their  immortality.  If 
we  believe  the  accounts  of  the  poets,  the  qualities  of  this  liquor  must  have 
been  of  a  most  delicious  character.  It  imparted  youth,  bloom,  and  vigour 
to  the  body,  and  possessed  the  power  of  repairing  all  the  defects  and  injuries 
of  the  mental  constitution  — Brande. 

823.  Ill,  &c. :  Firmly  to  support  evil  (or  adversity) ,  fulhj  to  taste  good  (the 
advantages  and  prosperities  of  life),  is  the  whole  science  of  happiness,  that  is, 
according  to  the  dictates  of  nature  (817). 

825.  Yet  sparing  pledge :  Yet  drink  sparingly  of  the  bowl  which  nature 
furnishes :  her  bowl  is  not  the  best,  &c.  The  description  of  a  better  bowl 
immediately  follows  (S26— 830) . 

S32.  Think  little :  Think  of  little  consequence  to  your  happiness. 


392  THE    COMPLAINT. 

Joys  season'd  high,  and  tasting  strong  of  guilt. 

WHAT   IT   IS    TO    FOLLOW    NATURE. 

'  Mad  !  (thou  reply'st,  with  indignation  fired) 
Of  ancient  sages  proud  to  tread  the  steps, 
I  follow  nature.' — Follow  nature  still,  840 

But  look  it  he  thine  own :  Is  conscience,  then, 
No  part  of  nature  ?     Is  she  not  supreme  ? 
Thou  regicide  !     0  raise  her  from  the  dead ! 
Then,  follow  nature  ;  and  resemble  God. 

When,  spite  of  conscience,  pleasure  is  pursued,  845 

Man's  nature  is  unnaturally  pleased  : 
And  what's  unnatural,  is  painful  too 

842.  No  part  of  nature:  In  the  controversy  with  the  man  of  the  world 
personated  by  Lorenzo,  this  question  is  a  fundamental  one.  Conscience  is  the 
highest  faculty  in  the  human  soul,  the  commanding,  the  authoritative  portion 
of  our  nature — that  which  we  are  constituted  to  feel  it  our  obligation  as 
well  as  interest  to  obey.  When  we  disobey  its  monitions,  we  feel  blame- 
worthy, and  are  so.  Since  conscience  prompts  to  virtue,  it  is  a  just  infer- 
ence that  man  was  made  for  virtuous  action  ;  and  he  does  not  act  according 
to  the  dictates  of  his  nature  as  a  whole,  when  he  gratifies  his  other  faculties 
and  propensities  in  a  manner  or  degree  disapproved  by  the  supreme  faculty 
— that  which  the  Creator  evidently  designed  to  control  our  actions. 

The  conclusion  is,  says  Dr.  Beattie,  that  to  allow  no  more  to  this  part 
than  to  other  parts  of  our  nature — to  let  it  guide  and  govern  only  occasion- 
ally, in  common  with  the  rest,  as  its  turn  happens  to  come,  this  is  not  to  act 
conformably  to  the  constitution  of  man;  and  though  conscience  may  lose 
its  power  when  borne  down  by  evil  habits  or  tumultuous  passion,  as  the 
strongest  man,  by  being  kept  in  fetters,  may  lose  the  use  of  his  limbs,  yet 
conscience  still  retains  its  authority,  that  is,  its  right  to  govern.  It  pre- 
scribes measures  to  every  appetite,  affection,  and  passion  ;  and  says  to  every 
oiher  principle  of  action,  so  far  thou  mayest  go,  but  no  farther. 

Hence,  adds  the  same  author,  it  may  be  seen  how  foolishly  those  men 
argue  who  give  way  to  all  their  passions  without  reserve,  and  excuse  them- 
selves by  saying,  that  every  passion  is  natural,  and  that  they  cannot  be 
blamed  for  doing  what  nature  prompts  them  to  do.  It  is  only  a  part,  and 
that  confessedly  an  inferior  part  of  their  nature,  that  prompts  them  to  such 
indulgence.  Their  nature,  as  a  whole,  remonstrates  against  such  indulgence. 
It  is,  therefore,  unnatural,  in  the  proper  sense  of  that  word,  and,  therefore, 
to  be  condemned  and  abandoned. 


night  vrri.  393 

At  intervals,  .and  must  disgust  e'en  thee! 

The  fact  thou  know'st ;  but  not,  perhaps  the  cause. 

Virtue's  foundations  with  the  world's  were  laid  ;  850 

Heav'n  mix'd  her  with  our  make,  and  twisted  close 

Her  sacred  interests  with  the  strings  of  life. 

Who  breaks  her  awful  mandate,  shocks  himself, 

His  better  self:  And  is  it  greater  pain, 

Our  soul  should  murmur,  or  our  dust  repine  ?  855 

And  one,  in  their  eternal  war,  must  bleed. 

If  one  must  suffer,  which  should  least  be  spared  ? 
The  pains  of  mind  surpass  the  pains  of  sense : 
Ask,  then,  the  gout,  what  torment  is  in  guilt. 
The  joys  of  sense,  to  mental  joys  arc  mean :  8(50 

Sense  on  the  present  only  feeds  ;  the  soul 
On  past,  and  future,  forages  for  joy. 
'Tis  hers  by  retrospect,  through  time  to  range; 
And  forward  time's  great  sequel  to  survey. 
Could  human  courts  take  vengeance  on  the  mind,  865 

Axes  might  rust,  and  racks,  and  gibbets,  fall : 
Guard,  then,  thy  mind,  and  leave  the  rest  to  fate. 

KNOW   THYSELF. 

Lorenzo !  wilt  thou  never  be  a  man  ? 

850.  Virtue's  foundations,  &c. :  This  important  subject  is  fully  presented 
in  Boyd's  Eclectic  Moral  Philosophy,  pp.  89 — 95 ;  also  in  Chalmers's  Insti- 
tutes of  Theology,  vol.  i.,  pp.  24-5,  who  therein  thus  writes:  In  the 
Divinity  alone  it  is  that  virtue  has  its  fountain-head  and  its  being;  not,  how 
ever,  in  the  fountain-head  of  the  Divine  will,  but  higher  than  this,  an< 
anterior  to  this — in  the  fountain-head  of  the  Divine  Nature.  It  is  not  th< 
will  of  God  which  determines  his  nature,  but  the  nature  of  God  whid- 
determines  his  will.  That  is  a  code  of  pure  and  perfect  righteousnes' 
which  is  graven  on  the  tablet  of  the  Divine  jurisprudence :  but  it  did  no' 
originate  there ;  for  there  it  is  but  a  transcript  from  the  prior  tablet  of  tin 
Divine  character.  Virtue  is  not  right  because  God  wills  it,  but  God  wills  if 
because  it  is  right.  The  moral  has  antecedency  to  the  judicial,  having  har1 
its  stable  and  everlasting  residence  in  the  constitution  of  the  Deity,  befor* 
that  he  willed  it  into  a  law  for  the  government  of  his  creatures. 

SCO.  To:  Compared  to. 


394  THE    COMPLAINT. 

The  man  is  dead,  who  fur  the  body  lives, 

Lured,  by  the  beating  of  his  pulse,  to  list  870 

With  ev'ry  lust  that  ware  against  his  peace, 

And  sets  him  quite  at  variance  with  himself. 

Thyself,  first,  know  ;  then  love :  A  self  there  is 

Of  virtue  fond,  that  kindles  at  her  charms. 

A  self  there  is  as  fond  of  ev'ry  vice,  875 

While  ev'ry  virtue  wounds  it  to  the  heart : 

Humility  degrades  it,  justice  robs, 

Blest  bounty  beggars  it,  fair  truth  betrays, 

And  godlike  magnanimity  destroys. 

This  self,  Avhen  rival  to  the  former,  scorn ;  880 

When  not  in  competition,  kindly  treat, 

Defend  it,  feed  it : — But  when  virtue  bids, 

Toss  it,  or  to  the  fowls,  or  to  the  flames. 

And  why  ?     'Tis  love  of  pleasure  bids  thee  bleed  ; 

873.  Thyself:  This  term,  as  the  author  shows,  embraces  a  self  that  is  fond 
of  virtue,  and  a  self  as  fond  of  every  vice — a  higher  and  lower  self;  the  for- 
mer consisting  of  reason  and  conscience,  the  latter  of  the  propensities  and 
desires.  This  twofold  self  is  strongly  delineated  by  the  Apostle  Paul  in  his 
Letter  to  the  Romans,  chap.  vii. 

877-9.  Humility  degrades,  &c. :  That  is,  our  depraved  self,  consisting  of 
perverted  appetites  and  desires,  looks  upon  humility  as  degrading,  justice  to 
others  as  defrauding  ourselves,  liberality  to  the  poor  as  reducing  ourselves  to 
want,  &c. 

883.    Or  to  the  fowls  :  Either  to  the,  &c. 

S84.  The  love  of  pleasure,  &c. :  The  love  of  a  higher  pleasure  bids  thee 
sacrifice  a  lower  enjoyment  even  at  great  pain  of  self-denial.  This  point  is 
exceedingly  well  illustrated  by  Dr.  Beattie  in  his  Moral  Science,  thus : 
If  we  couJd  at  once  gratify  all  the  propensities  of  our  nature,  that  would  be 
our  highest  possible  happiness,  and  what  we  might  call  our  summum  bonum, 
or  chief  good.  But  that  cannot  be;  for  our  propensities  are  often  incon- 
sistent, so  that  if  we  comply  with  one  we  must  contradict  another.  He 
who  is  enslaved  to  sensuality,  cannot,  at  the  same  time,  enjoy  the  more 
sublime  pleasures  of  science  and  virtue;  and  he  who  devotes  himself  to 
science,  or  adheres  to  virtue,  must  often  act  in  opposition  to  his  inferior 
appetites.  The  ambitious  man  cannot  labor  for  the  acquisition  of  power, 
and  taste  the  sweets  of  indolence  at  the  same  time  ;  and  the  miser,  while 
he  indulges  himself  in  the  contemplation  of  his  wealth,  must  be  a  stranger 
to  the  pleasures  of  beneficence.     The  gratification  of  all  our  appetites  at 


NIGHT    VIII.  395 

Comply,  or  own  self-love  extinct,  or  blind.  885 

VICE    A    MISTAKEN',    VIRTUE    A    WISE,    SELF-LOVE. 

For  what  is  vice  ?  Self-love  in  a  mistake  : 
A  poor  blind  merchant  buying  joys  too  dear. 
And  virtue,  what  ?  'Tis  self-love  in  her  wits, 
Quite  skilful  in  the  market  of  delight. 

Self-love's  good  sense  is  love  of  that  dread  Pow'r,  890 

From  whom  she  springs,  and  all  she  can  enjoy. 
Other  self-love  is  but  disguised  self-hate  ; 
More  mortal  than  the  malice  of  our  foes  ; 
A  self-hate,  now,  scarce  felt ;  then  felt  full  sore, 
When  being  curst ;  extinction,  loud  implored;  895 

And  ev'ry  thing  preferr'd  to  what  we  are. 

Yet  this  self-love  Lorenzo  makes  his  choice ; 
And,  in  this  choice  triumphant,  boasts  of  joy. 
How  is  his  want  of  happiness  betray'd, 

By  disaffection  to  the  present  hour !  900 

Imagination  wanders  far  a-field. 
The  future  pleases  :  Why !     The  present  pains. — 
'  But  that's  a  secret.'     Yes,  which  all  men  know  ; 
And  know  from  thee,  discover'd  unawares. 
Thy  ceaseless  agitation,  restless  roll  905 

once,  is,  therefore,  impossible.  Consequently,  some  degree  of  self-denial 
must  be  practised  by  every  man.  whether  good  or  bad — by  the  ruffian  as 
well  as  the  saint,  the  sensualist  as  well  as  the  hermit;  and  man's  greatest 
possible  happiness  must  be.  at  least  in  the  present  state,  not  a  complete 
gratification  of  all  our  propensities,  but  the  most  comprehensive  gratification 
of  which  we  are  capable.  Now,  some  pleasures  conduce  more  to  happi- 
ness than  others,  and  are,  therefore,  more  important  than  others;  and  if  we 
sacrifice  a  less  important  to  a  more  important  one,  we  add  to  our  sum  of 
happiness ;  and  we  take  away  from  that  sum,  when  we  sacrifice  a  more 
important  pleasure  to  one  of  less  importance. 

891.  She  springs:  In  some  editions  this  line  reads:  From  whom  herself, 
and  all  she  can  enjoy. 

S9-j.    When  being  (is,>  curst,  (and)  extinction  (is)  loud  implored. 

901.  A-field:  Across  the  fields. 

90.5.  Roll :  A  noun. 


896  THE    COMPLAINT. 

From  cheat  to  cheat,  impatient  of  a  pause ; 

What  is  it  ?— 'Tis  the  cradle  of  the  soul, 

From  instinct  sent,  to  rock  her  in  disease, 

Which  her  physician,  reason,  will  not  cure. 

A.  poor  expedient !  yet  thy  best ;  and  while  910 

It  mitigates  thy  pain,  it  owns  it  too. 

Such  are  Lorenzo's  wretched  remedies  ! 
The  weak  have  remedies  ;  the  wise  have  joys. 
Superior  wisdom  is  superior  bliss. 

And  what  sure  mark  distinguishes  the  wise  ?  915 

Consistent  wisdom  ever  wills  the  same ; 
Thy  fickle  wish  is  ever  on  the  -wing. 
Sick  of  herself,  is  folly's  character ; 
As  wisdom's  is,  a  modest  self-applause. 

A  change  of  evils  is  thy  good  supreme  ;  920 

Nor,  but  in  motion,  canst  thou  find  thy  rest. 
Man's  greatest  strength  is  shewn  in  standing  stilL 
The  first  sure  symptom  of  a  mind  in  health, 
Is  rest  of  heart,  and  pleasure  felt  at  home. 
False  pleasure  from  abroad  her  joys  imports  ;  925 

Rich  from  within,  and  self-sustain'd,  the  true. 
The  true  is  fix'd,  and  solid  as  a  rock ; 
Slipp'ry  the  false,  and  tossing  as  the  wave. 
This,  a  wild  wanderer  on  earth,  like  Cain  ; 
That,  like  the  fabled,  self-enamour'd  boy,  930 

Home-contemplation  her  supreme  delight : 
She  dreads  an  interruption  from  without, 
Smit  with  her  own  condition  ;  and  the  more 
Intense  she  gazes,  still  it  charms  the  more. 

921.  A  fine  example  of  unexpected  contrast  in  the  words  motion  and 
rest. 

929.  Like  Cain:  Gen.  iv.  12:  "A  fugitive  and  a  vagabond  shalt  thou  be 
in  the  earth."     This  was  Cain's  sentence. 

9H0.  Self-enamour' [d  boy :  The  fab'ed  Narcissus,  the  beautiful  son  of  the 
river-god  Cephisus  and  the  nymph  Lyriope  Seeing  his  image  reflected  in 
n  fountain,  he  foil  so  exceedingly  in  love  with  it,  that  he  pined  away  till  ne 
died.     Subsequently  he  was  changed  into  the  flower  that  bears  his  name. 


NIGHT    VIII. 


THE    HAPPr   MAN. 


397 


No  man  is  happy  till  he  thinks,  on  earth  935 

There  breathes  not  a  more  happy  than  himself: 
Then  envy  dies,  and  love  o'erflows  on  all ; 
And  love  o'errlowing  makes  an  angel  here. 
Such  angels  all,  entitled  to  repose 

On  Him  who  governs  fate.     Though  tempest  frowns,  940 

Though  nature  shakes,  how  soft  to  lean  on  Heav'n ! 
To  lean  on  Him,  on  whom  archangels  lean  ! 
"With  inward  eyes,  and  silent  as  the  grave, 
They  stand  collecting  ev'ry  beam  of  thought, 
Till  their  hearts  kindle  with  divine  delight :  945 

For  all  their  thoughts,  like  angels,  seen  of  old 
In  Israel's  dream,  come  from,  and  go  to,  heav'n  : 
Hence,  are  they  studious  of  sequester'd  scenes  ; 
"While  noise,  and  dissipation,  comfort  thee. 

Were  all  men  happy,  revelling  would  cease,  950 

That  opiate  for  inquietude  within, 
Lorenzo  !  never  man  was  truly  blest, 
But  it  composed,  and  gave  him  such  a  cast, 
As  folly  might  mistake  for  want  of  joy. 

A  cast,  unlike  the  triumph  of  the  proud ;  955 

A  modest  aspect,  and  a  smile  at  heart. 
0  for  a  joy  from  thy  Philander's  spring ! 
A  spring  perennial,  rising  in  the  breast, 
And  permanent,  as  pure !     No  turbid  stream 
Of  rapt'rous  exultation,  swelling  high  ;  960 

Which,  like  land-floods,  impetuous  pour  a  while, 

940.  Fate:  The  destiny  of  men. 

941.  Soft:  Pleasant. 

943.  Willi  i7iicard  eyes :  With  the  mental  e3re  directed  inward,  or,  with 
thoughts  directed  inward  to  the  operations  of  the  soul. 

947.  Israel's  dream :  Gen.  xxviii.  12 :  "  And  he  dreamed,  and  behold  a 
ladder  set  up  on  the  earth,  and  the  top  of  it  reached  to  heaven,  and  behold 
the  angels  of  God  ascending  and  descending  upon  it." 


398  THE    COMPLAINT. 

Then  sink  at  once,  and  leave  us  in  the  mire. 
What  does  the  man,  who  transient  joy  prefers  ? 
What,  but  prefer  the  hubbies  to  the  stream  ? 

Vain  are  all  sudden  sallies  of  delight ;  905 

Convulsions  of  a  weak  distemper'd  joy. 
Joy's  a  fix'd  state ;  a  tenure,  not  a  start. 
Bliss  there  is  none,  but  unprecarious  bliss  : 
That  is  the  gem  :  sell  all  and  purchase  that. 
Why  go  a  begging  to  contingencies,  970 

Not  gain'd  with  ease,  nor  safely  loved,  if  gain'd  ? 
At  good  fortuitous,  draw  back,  and  pause ; 
Suspect  it :  what  thou  canst  ensure,  enjoy ; 
And  nought  but  what  thou  giv'st  thyself,  is  sure. 
Reason  perpetuates  joy  that  reason  gives,  975 

And  makes  it  as  immortal  as  herself: 
To  mortals,  nought  immortal,  but  their  worth. 

Worth,  conscious  worth  !  should  absolutely  reign  ; 

968.   Unprecarious  :  Not  uncertain,  but  enduring. 

972.  Fortuitous :  Subject  to  accident,  not  reliable. 

978.  Worth  should  absolutely  reign :  We  may  illustrate  this  topic  in  the 
language  of  Dr.  Beattie's  Moral  Science: 

Every  gratification  of  which  human  nature  is  capable,  may  be  compre- 
hended under  one  or  other  of  these  three  classes :  the  pleasures  of  outward 
sense,  the  pleasures  of  imagination  and  intellect  (that  is,  of  taste  and 
science) ,  and  the  pleasures  that  result  from  the  right  exercise  of  our  moral 
powers. 

The  delights  that  arise  from  the  latter  source,  and  from  the  approbation 
of  conscience,  are,  of  all  gratifications,  the  most  dignified.  The  more  a 
man  attaches  himself  to  them,  the  more  respectable  he  becomes ;  and  it  is 
not  possible  for  him  to  carry  such  attachment  to  excess.  With  disgust,  or 
with  pain,  they  are  never  attended :  they  give  a  relish  for  other  pleasures, 
by  preserving  the  mind  cheerful,  and  the  bod}'  in  health ;  they  are  not  in- 
consistent with  any  innocent  gratification — that  is,  they  are  consistent  with 
all  pleasures  except  those  which  bring  pain  and  misery— they  please 
intensely  on  reflection — are  a  perpetual  source  of  comfort  in  adversity — 
become  more  exquisite  the  more  we  are  accustomed  to  them — they  are 
within  the  reach  of  every  man,  high  and  low,  learned  and  ignorant — are 
suited  to  all  times  and  places,  and,  so  long  as  we  retain  our  rationality,  it  is 
not  in  the  power  of  malice  or  of  fortune  to  deprive  us  of  them.  To  virtue, 
therefore,  which  is  the  right  exercise  of  our  moral  powers,  the  character  of 


night  vni.  399 

And  other  joys  ask  leave  for  their  approach  ; 

Nor,  unexamined,  ever  leave  obtain.  980 

Thou  art  all  anarchy  ;  a  mob  of  joys 

Wage  war,  and  perish  in  intestine  broils : 

Not  the  least  promise  of  internal  peace  ! 

No  bosom  comfort,  or  unborrow'd  bliss  ! 

Thy  thoughts  are  vagabonds  ;  all  outward  bouud,  985 

'Mid  sand?,  and  rocks,  and  storms,  to  cruise  for  pleasure  ; 

If  gain'd,  dear  bought ;  and  better  miss'd  than  gainVl. 

Much  pain  must  expiate,  what  much  pain  procured. 

Fancy,  and  sense,  from  an  infected  shore, 

Thy  cargo  bring ;  and  pestilence  the  prize.  990 

Then,  such  thy  thirst  (insatiable  thirst ! 

By  fond  indulgence  but  inflamed  the  more !) 

Fancy  still  cruises,  when  poor  sense  is  tired. 

THE    GUILT    AND    FOLLIES    OP    IMAGINATION. 

Imagination  is  the  Paphian  shop, 
Where  feeble  happiness,  like  Vulcan,  lame,  995 

Bids  foul  ideas,  in  their  dark  recess, 
And  hot  as  hell  (which  kindled  the  black  fires) 

chief  good  does  belong,  which  will  appear  still  more  evident  when  we 
consider  that  the  hope  of  future  felicity  is  the  chief  consolation  of  the  pre- 
sent life,  and  that  the  virtuous  alone  can  reasonably  entertain  that  hope. 
As,  on  the  other  hand,  vice,  in  the  most  prosperous  condition,  is  subject  to 
tne  pangs  of  a  guilty  conscience,  and  to  the  dreadful  anticipation  of  future 
punishment,  which  are  sufficient  to  destroy  all  earthly  happiness. 

994.  Paphian  shop:  Paphos  is  an  ancient  name  of  the  island  of  Cyprus, 
where  Venus  was  worshipped  in  a  peculiar  degree.  Vulcan  was  the  god 
of  blacksmiths,  skilled  in  arts  connected  with  metals  and  fire.  His  lame- 
ness was  owing  to  his  being  tumbled  out.  of  heaven  by  Jupiter  for  venturing 
to  help  his  mother  Juno,  whom  Jupiter  had  suspended  in  the  air.  To  these 
circumstances  our  author  alludes. 

The  senses  being  tired  by  excessive  indulgence  (99H) ,  feeble,  or  enfeebled 
happiness,  or  pleasure,  goes  to  the  shop  of  imagination,  on  ground  devoted  to 
Venus,  the  goddess  of  guiltv  pleasures.  Pleasure  is  lame,  like  Vulcan,  and 
proceeds  to  employ  the  black  fires  of  foul  ideas  to  form  those  fatal  arrows 
which  muraered  Lorenzo's  time,  &c. 


400  THE    COMPLAINT. 

With  wanton  art,  those  fatal  arrows  form, 

Which  murder  all  thy  time,  health,  wealth,  and  fame. 

Wouldst  thou  receive  them,  other  thoughts  there  are,       1000 

On  angel  wing,  descending  from  above, 

Which  these,  with  art  divine,  would  counterwork, 

And  form  celestial  armour  for  thy  peace. 

In  this  is  seen  imagination's  guilt : 
But  who  can  count  her  follies  ?     She  betrays  thee,  1005 

To  think  in  grandeur  there  is  something  great, 
For  works  of  curious  art,  and  ancient  fame, 
Thy  genius  hungers,  elegantly  pain'd ; 
And  foreign  climes  must  cater  for  thy  taste. 
Hence  what  disaster  ! — Though  the  price  wras  paid,  1010 

That  persecuting  priest,  the  Turk  of  Rome, 
Whose  foot  (ye  gods !)  though  cloven,  must  be  kiss'd, 
Detain'd  thy  dinner  on  the  Latian  shore  ; 
(Such  is  the  fate  of  honest  protestants  !) 

And  poor  magnificence  is  starved  to  death.  1015 

Hence  just  resentment,  indignation,  ire  ! — 
Be  pacified  ;  if  outward  things  are  great, 
'Tis  magnanimity  great  things  to  scorn ; 
Pompous  expenses,  and  parades  august, 
And  courts,  that  insalubrious  soil  to  peace,  1020 

True  happiness  ne'er  enter'd  at  an  eye  : 
True  happiness  resides  in  things  unseen. 

1011.  The  Turk  of  Rome:  The  Pope  of  Rome,  cruel  as  a  Turk  in  the 
persecution  of  Protestant  Christians,  and  arrogantly  demanding  of  his  subor- 
dinate clergy  and  others,  even  crowned  princes,  the  degrading  homage  of 
kissing  his  foot,  even  though,  as  our  author  adds,  cloven  or  split — that  is  (in 
allusion  to  some  ridiculous  poetic  and  pictorial  illustrations),  the  foot  of  the 
devil.  Tasso  describes  Satan  in  his  Fourth  Canto  as  possessing  horns,  and  a 
tail,  and  cloven  feet.  Raphael  and  Michael  Angelo,  in  their  pictures,  give  a 
similar  representation.  The  Pope  is  here  represented  as  haughtily  occasion- 
ing Lorenzo  some  inconvenience  and  privations,  when  examining  the  works 
of  curious  art  on  the  Latin  (or  Roman)  shore. 

1012.  Ye  gods  :  An  exclamation  less  unbecoming  to  a  Pagan  than  a 
Christian  author.  Dr.  Young  here  unworthily  copied  the  fashion  of  other 
poets  of  his  day. 


NIGHT   VIU.  4Ul 

No  smiles  of  fortune  ever  bless'd  the  bad, 

Nor  can  her  frowns  rob  innocence  of  joys  ; 

That  jewel  wanting,  triple  crowns  are  poor:  1025 

So  tell  his  holiness,  and  be  revenged. 

WHAT    DESERVES    THE    NAME    OF    PLEASURE. 

Pleasure,  we  both  agree,  is  man's  chief  good : 
Our  only  contest,  what  deserves  the  name. 
Give  pleasure's  name  to  nought,  but  what  has  pass'd 
Th'  authentic  seal  of  reason  (which,  like  Yorke,  1030 

Demurs  on  what  it  passes)  and  defies 
The  tooth  of  time ;  when  past,  a  pleasure  still ; 
Dearer  on  trial,  lovelier  for  its  age, 
And  doubly  to  be  prized,  as  it  promotes 

Our  future,  while  it  forms  our  present  joy.  1035 

Some  joys  the  future  overcast ;  and  some 
Throw  all  their  beams  that  way,  and  gild  the  tomb. 
Some  joys  endear  eternity ;  some  give 
Abhorr'd  annihilation  dreadful  charms. 

Are  rival  joys  contending  for  thy  choice?  1040 

Consult  thy  whole  existence,  and  be  safe  : 
That  oracle  will  put  all  doubt  to  flight. 
Short  is  the  lesson,  though  my  lecture  long : 
Be  good — and  let  Heav'n  answer  for  the  rest. 

Yet,  with  a  sigh  o'er  all  mankind,  I  grant,  1045 

In  this  our  day  of  proof,  our  land  of  hope, 
The  good  man  has  his  clouds  that  intervene; 
Clouds,  that  obscure  his  sublunary  day, 
But  never  conquer  :  Ev'n  the  best  must  own, 
Patience  and  resignation  are  the  pillars  1050 

Of  human  peace  on  earth.     The  pillars,  these  : 
But  those  of  Seth  not  more  remote  from  thee, 

1026.  His  holiness :  A  title  by  which  the  Pope  chooses  to  he  described. 
104G.  Prorf:  Trial  or  probation. 

1052.  The  pillars  of  Seth:  We  find  mention  made  of  these  in  Josephus' 
Antiquities.     According  to  him,  Seth  (the  son  of  Adam)  and  his  posterity 


402  THE    COMPLAINT. 

Till  this  heroic  lesson  thou  hast  learnt ; 

To  frown  at  pleasure,  and  to  smile  in  pain. 

Fired  at  the  prospect  of  unclouded  bliss,  1055 

Ueav'n  in  reversion,  like  the  sun,  as  yet 

Beneath  th'  horizon,  cheers  us  in  this  world  : 

It  sheds,  on  souls  susceptible  of  light, 

The  glorious  dawn  of  our  eternal  day. 

'This  (says  Lorenzo)  is  a  fair  harangue  :  1060 

But  can  harangues  blow  back  strong  nature's  stream  ? 
Or  stem  the  tide  Heav'n  pushes  through  our  vein.-, 
Which  sweeps  away  man's  impotent  resolves, 
And  lays  his  labour  level  with  the  world  ?' 

Themselves  men  make  their  comments  on  mankind  ;     1065 
And  think  nought  is,  but  what  they  find  at  home  ; 
Thus  weakness  to  chimera  turns  the  truth. 
Nothing  romantic  has  the  muse  prescribed. 

Above,  Lorenzo  saw  the  man  of  earth, 
The  mortal  man  ;  and  wretched  was  the  sight.  1070 

To  balance  that,  to  comfort  and  exalt, 
Now  see  the  man  immortal :  him  I  mean, 
Who  lives  as  such  ;  whose  heart,  full  bent  on  heav'n, 

were  inventors  of  the  art  of  astronomy,  and  made  important  observations, 
which  they  sought  to  preserve  by  inscribing  them  upon  two  pillars,  which 
they  erected  for  the  purpose  in  the  land  of  Siriad — the  one  of  brick,  and 
the  other  of  stone,  as  Adam  had  given  them  to  understand  that  the  earth 
should  be  destroyed  at  one  time  by  the  force  of  fire,  and.  at  another,  by  the 
violence  and  quantity  of  water.  It  was  supposed  that,  in  case  the  pillar  of 
brick  should  be  destroyed  by  the  flood,  the  pillar  of  stone  would  survive  it. 
Josephus  says  it  was  standing  in  his  own  day. 

But  the  translator  of  Josephus,  in  a  note,  declares  the  opinion  that  a 
mistake  was  made  by  Josephus,  attributing  to  Seth,  the  son  of  Adam,  what 
should  have  been  ascribed  to  Seth,  or  Sesostris,  king  of  Egypt,  stating  that 
&uch  pillars  could  not  have  resisted  the  Deluge,  while  there  is  evidence  that 
the  like  pillars  of  the  Egyptian  Seth,  or  Sesostris,  were  extant  after  the 
flood  in  the  land  of  Siriad,  and,  perhaps,  in  the  time  of  Josephus  too. 

1056.  In  reversion:  In  prospective  possession.  The  figure  that  follows 
cannot  be  too  much  admired  for  its  appropriateness. 

1067.  To  chimera,  &c. :  To  that  which  is  paradoxical  and  incredible. 

1069.  Above :  In  a  former  "  Night." 


NIGHT    VIII.  iOH 

Leans  all  tli.it  way,  his  bias  to  the  stars. 

The  world's  dark  shades,  in  contrast  set,  shall  raise  107c 

His  lustre  more ;  though  bright,  without  a  foil : 

Observe  his  awful  portrait,  and  admire; 

Nor  stop  at  wonder  :  imitate,  and  live. 

THE    MAX    WHO    LIVES    AS    AX    IMMORTAL,    CONTRASTED    WITH    THE 
WORLDLING. 

Some  angel  guide  my  pencil,  while  I  draw, 
What  nothing  less  than  angel  can  exceed,  1080 

A  man  on  earth  devoted  to  the  skies ; 
Like  ships  in  sea,  while  in,  above  the  world. 

With  aspect  mild  and  elevated  eye, 
Behold  him  seated  on  a  mount  serene, 

Above  the  fogs  of  sense,  and  passion's  storm  ;  1085 

All  the  black  cares,  and  tumults,  of  this  life 
(Like  harmless  thunders,  breaking  at  his  feet) 
Excite  his  pity,  not  impair  his  peace. 
Earth's  genuine  sons,  the  scepter'd,  and  the  slave, 
A  mingled  mob  !  a  wand'ring  herd  !  he  sees,  1090 

Bewilder'd  in  the  vale  ;  in  all  unlike  ! 
His  full  reverse  in  all !     What  higher  praise  ? 
What  stronger  demonstration  of  the  right  ? 

The  present  all  their  care  ;  the  future,  his. 
When  public  welfare  calls,  or  private  want,  1095 

They  give  to  fame  ;  his  bounty  he  conceals. 
Their  virtues  varnish  nature  ;  his  exalt. 
Mankind's  esteem  they  court ;  and  he,  his  own. 

1076.  Without  a  foil :  Without  anything  placed  in  contrast  or  oppo- 
sition. 

10S2.  An  ingenious  comparison.  It  is  almost  immediately  followed  by 
another,  which  is  finely  illustrative  of  the  subject,  and  carried  <_ut  with 
great  correctness  and  delicacy  of  taste. 

1091.  In  a!!  unlike ;.  himself) . 

Hisoirn:  The  author  might  more  properh-  have  assumed  higher 
gr.  i.i.J,  and  said  that  he  courted  the  esteem  of  God. 


404  THE    COMPLAINT. 

Theirs,  the  wild  chase  of  false  felicities  ; 

His,  the  composed  possession  of  the  true.  1100 

Alike  throughout  is  his  consistent  piece, 

All  of  one  colour,  and  an  even  thread ; 

While  party-coloured  shreds  of  happiness, 

With  hideous  gaps  between,  patch  up  for  them 

A  madman's  robe;  each  puff  of  fortune  blows  1105 

The  tatters  by,  and  shews  their  nakedness. 

He  sees  with  other  eyes  than  theirs ;  where  they 
Behold  a  sun,  he  spies  a  Deity : 
What  makes  them  only  smile,  makes  him  adore. 
Where  they  see  mountains,  he  but  atoms  sees  :  1110 

An  empire,  in  his  balance,  weighs  a  grain. 
They  things  terrestrial  worship,  as  divine ; 
His  hopes  immortal  blow  them  by,  as  dust, 
That  dims  his  sight,  and  shortens  his  survey, 
Which  longs,  in  infinite,  to  lose  all  bound.  1115 

Titles  and  honours  (if  they  prove  his  fate) 
He  lays  aside  to  find  bis  dignity  : 
No  dignity  they  find  in  aught  besides. 
They  triumph  in  externals  (which  conceal 
Man's  real  glory)  proud  of  an  eclipse.  1 1 20 

Himself  too  much  he  prizes  to  be  proud, 
And  nothing  thinks  so  great  in  man,  as  man. 
Too  dear  he  holds  his  int'rest,  to  neglect 
Another's  welfare,  or  his  right  invade  ; 

Their  int'rest,  like  a  lion,  lives  on  prey.  1125 

They  kindle  at  the  shadow  of  a  wrong : 

1108.  He  spies  a  Deity  :  He  spies  the  work,  the  evidence,  the  glory  of  its 
Divine  Author. 

1113-15.  The  sublimity  of  the  thought  should  here  be  noticed. 

1116.  If  they  prove  his  fate:  If  they  should  be  allotted  to  him. 

1123.  His  int'rest:  His  interest  is  contrasted  with  their  interest  (1125). 
In  the  first  instance,  the  word  is  taken  in  a  large,  absolute,  and  compre- 
hensive sense ;  in  the  other,  it  is  used  in  a  limited  sense,  to  mean  that  it  is 
supposed  by  them  to  be  their  interest,  or  for  their  advantage,  to  invade  the 
rights  of  others. 


NIGHT    VIII.  405 

Wrong  he  sustains  with  temper,  looks  on  heav'n, 

Nor  stoops  to  think  his  injurer  his  foe  ; 

Nought,  but  what  wounds  his  virtue,  wounds  his  peace. 

A  cover'd  heart  their  character  defends ;  1130 

A  cover'd  heart  denies  him  half  his  praise. 

With  nakedness  his  innocence  agrees  ; 

While  then  broad  foliage  testifies  their  fall. 

Their  no-joys  end,  where  his  full  feast  begins ', 

His  joys  create,  theirs  murder,  future  bli    ,  1135 

To  triumph  in  existence,  his  alone  ; 

And  his  alone,  triumphantly  to  think 

His  true  existence  is  not  yet  begun. 

His  glorious  course  was,  yesterday,  complete : 

Death,  then,  was  welcome  ;  yet  life  still  is  sweet.  1140 

THE    UNDAUNTED    BREAST. 

But  nothing  charms  Lorenzo,  like  the  firm 
Undaunted  breast — And  whose  is  that  high  praise  ? 
They  yield  to  pleasure,  though  they  danger  brave, 

1130-31.  The  meaning  is,  that  their  character  appears  best  when  their 
hearts  are  most  covered  so  as  not  to  be  observed  or  known ;  while  his 
character  does  not  receive  half  the  admiration  it  is  entitled  to,  if  his  heart. 
his  springs  of  action,  his  dispositions,  are  concealed  from  our  view,  or  do  not 
come  to  our  knowledge.  Then  follows  a  happy  allusion  (1132-33)  to  our 
first  parents  in  their  primitive  and  fallen  state. 

1143-44.  They  yield  to  pleasure:  The  duty  that  is  exercised  in  resisting 
the  solicitation  of  evils  that  can  scarcely  be  said  to  be  yet  vices,  though  they 
are  soon  to  become  vices,  and  are,  as  yet,  to  our  unreflecting  thought,  only 
forms  of  gaiety  and  social  kindness,  is  truly  one  of  the  most  important 
duties  of  self-command.  It  is  not  the  endurance  of  pain  that  is  the  hardest 
trial  to  which  fortitude  can  be  exposed:  it  is  the  calm  endurance,  if  1  may 
so  term  it,  of  the  very  smiles  of  pleasure  herself — an  endurance  that  is 
easy  only  to  the  noble  love  of  future  as  well  as  present  virtue — that  can 
resist  what  it  is  delightful  to  crowds  to  do,  as  it  resists  the  less  terrible 
forms  of  evil  from  which  every  individual  of  the  crowd  would  shrink.  The 
courage  of  those  who  have  strength  only  to  resist  what  is  commonly  termed 
fear,  is  a  courage  that  is  scarcely  worthy  of  the  name — as  little  worthy  of 
it  as  the  partial  courage  of  the  soldier  on  his  own  element,  if  on  a  different 
element    ho  were   to   tremble    wh^n    exposed   to   a   shipwreck;   or 


406  THE    COMPLAINT. 

And  shew  no  fortitude,  but  in  the  field : 

If  there  they  shew  it,  'tis  for  glory  shewn;  1145 

Nor  will  that  cordial  always  man  their  hearts, 

A  cordial  his  sustains,  that  cannot  fail : 

By  pleasure  unsubdued,  unbroke  by  pain, 

He  shares  in  that  Omnipotence  he  trusts  ; 

All-bearing,  all-attempting,  till  he  falls;  1150 

And  when  he  falls,  writes  VICI  on  his  shield : 

From  magnanimity,  all  fear  above : 

From  noble  recompense,  above  applause ; 

Which  owes  to  man's  short  out-look  all  its  charms. 

Backward  to  credit  what  he  never  felt,  1155 

Lorenzo  cries — '  Where  shines  this  miracle  ? 
From  what  root  rises  this  immortal  man  V 
A  root  that  grows  not  in  Lorenzo's  ground ; 
The  root  dissect,  nor  wonder  at  the  flow'r. 

THE    CHRISTIAN    FOLLOWS    NATURE. 

He  follows  nature  (not  like  thee!)  and  shews  us  1160 

An  uninverted  system  of  a  man. 
His  appetite  wears  reason's  golden  chain, 
And  finds,  in  due  restraint,  its  luxury. 
His  passion,  like  an  eagle  well  reclaim'd, 

seaman  if  he  were,  in  )ike  manner,  to  tremble  at  any  of  the  common  peril, 
to  which  life  can  be  exposed  on  land.  The  most  strenuo-us  combatants  in 
the  tumult  of  warfares,  may  be  cowards,  or  worse  than  cowards,  in  the 
calm,  moral  fight.  His  is  the  only  genuine  strength  of  heart  who  resists, 
not  the  force  of  a  few  fears  only  to  which  even  in  the  eyes  of  the  world  it 
is  ignominious  for  man  to  yield,  but  the  force  of  every  temptation  to  which 
it  would  be  unworthy  of  man  to  yield,  even  though  the  world,  in  its  capri- 
cious allotments  of  honour  and  shame,  might  not  have  chosen  to  regard  with 
ignominy  that  peculiar  species  of  cowardice  "  by  pleasure  unsubdued,"'  &c. 
1148-51.— Brown's  Phil.  Mind,  iii.  540. 

1151.    Via:  I  have  conquered.     An  allusion  to  Caesar's  despatch  to  the 
Roman  senate,  Vcni,  Vid'u  Vici. 

11G0.  Not  like  thee.   Compare  838-9. 
1164.  Reclaimed:  Tamed  and  trained. 


NIGHT    VIII.  •10'; 

Is  taught  to  fly  at  nought,  hut  infinite.  1165 

Patient  his  hope,  unanxious  is  his  care, 

His  caution  fearless,  and  his  grief  (if  grief 

The  gods  ordain)  a  stranger  to  despair. 

And  why  ? — Because  affection,  more  than  meet, 

His  wisdom  leaves  not  disengaged  from  heav'n.  11 70 

Those  secondary  goods  that  smile  on  earth, 

He,  loving  in  proportion,  loves  in  peace. 

They  most  the  world  enjoy,  who  least  admire. 

His  understanding  'scapes  the  common  cloud 

Of  fumes,  arising  from  a  boiling  breast.  1175 

His  head  is  clear,  because  his  heart  is  cool, 

By  worldly  competitions  uninflamed. 

The  mod' rate  movements  of  his  soul  admit 

Distinct  ideas,  and  matured  debate, 

An  eye  impartial,  and  an  even  scale  ;  1180 

Whence  judgment  sound,  and  unrepenting  choice. 

Thus,  in  a  double  sense,  the  good  are  wise  ; 

On  its  own  dunghill,  wiser  than  the  world. 

What  then,  the  world  ?     It  must  be  doubly  weak : 

Strange  truth  !  as  soon  would  they  believe  their  creed.      1185 

Yet  thus  it  is  ;  nor  otherwise  can  be : 
So  far  from  aught  romantic  what  I  sing. 
Bliss  has  no  being,  virtue  has  no  strength, 
But  from  the  prospect  of  immortal  life. 

Who  thinks  earth  all,  or  (what  weighs  just  the  same)        1190 
Who  cares  no  farther,  must  prize  what  it  yields  ; 
Fond  of  its  fancies,  proud  of  its  parades. 
Who  thinks  earth  nothing,  can't  its  charms  admire  ; 

1168.  The  gods  ordain:  A  Pagan  mode  of  expression, used  in  accommo- 
dation, perhaps,  to  Lorenzo's  mode  of  talking,  but  unworthy  of  a  Christian 
poem,  the  gods  of  the  heathen  being  no  gods. 

1184.  Rather  a  low  comparison  from  the  barnyard,  and  only  to  be  vin- 
dicated by  considering  the  author's  design,  which  was  to  place  the  me-n  of 
the  world  in  a  degraded  position,  as  compared  with  the  aspirant  for  the 
Christian's  immortality. 

1183.  As  soon  would  they  (the  men  of  the  world)  believe  their  cirrd  (the 
creed  of  Christians') 


408  THE    COMPLAINT. 

He  can't  a  foe,  though  most  malignant,  hate, 

Because  that  hate  would  prove  his  greater  foe.  1195 

Tis  hard  for  them  (yet  who  so  loudly  hoast 

Good  will  to  men  ?)  to  love  their  dearest  friend : 

For  may  not  he  invade  their  good  supreme, 

Where  the  least  jealousy  turns  love  to  gall  ? 

All  shines  to  them,  that  for  a  season  shines. 

Each  act,  each  thought  he  questions,  '  What  its  weigh  t, 

Its  colour  what,  a  thousand  ages  hence  V 

And  what  it  there  appears,  he  deems  it  now. 

Hence,  pure  are  the  recesses  of  his  soul. 

The  godlike  man  has  nothing  to  conceal.  1205 

His  virtue  constitutionally  deep, 

Has  habit's  firmness,  and  affection's  flame  : 

Angels  allied,  descend  to  feed  the  fire  ; 

And  death,  which  others  slays,  makes  him  a  god. 

THE    MAN    OF    THE    WORLD    DISDAINS    THE    CHRISTIAN. 

And  now,  Lorenzo,  bigot  of  this  world!  1210 

Wont  to  disdain  poor  bigots  caught  by  heav'n  ! 
Stand  by  thy  scorn,  and  be  reduced  to  nought : 
For  what  art  thou  ? — Thou  boaster !  while  thy  glare, 
Thy  gaudy  grandeur,  and  mere  worldly  worth, 
Like  a  broad  mist,  at  distance  strikes  us  most ;  1215 

And,  like  a  mist,  is  nothing  when  at  hand ; 
His  merit,  like  a  mountain,  on  approach, 
Swells  more,  and  rises  nearer  to  the  skies, 

1194-97.  He  can't  hate  a /be,  &c.  'Tis  hard  for  them,  &c,  to  love  theiT 
dearest  friend. 

1200-1.  Them  and  he  are  emphatic. 

1209.  A  god :  Superhuman.  Raises  him  to  a  more  exalted  condition  than 
he  occupies  on  earth. 

1211.  Caught  by  heav'n:  Attracted  by  its  glories. 

1215-18.  The  comparison  of  the  worldly  worth  of  Lorenzo  to  mist,  and  of 
the  solid  merit  of  the  heavenly-minded  man  to  a  mountain,  which  swells  on 
wir  approach,  and  rises  nearer  to  Ihe  skies,  deserves  the  highest  admi- 
ration. 


mght  an.  409 

By  promise,  now,  and,  by  possession  soon 

(Too  soon,  too  much,  it  cannot  be)  his  own.  1220 

From  this  thy  just  annihilation  rise, 
Lorenzo  !  rise  to  something  by  reply. 
The  world,  thy  client,  listens,  and  expects  ; 
And  longs  to  crown  thee  with  immortal  praise. 
Canst  thou  be  silent  ?     Xo ;  for  wit  is  thine ;  i  2  i2  -*> 

And  wit  talks  most,  wheu  least  she  has  to  say, 
And  reason  interrupts  not  her  career. 

She'll  say That  mists  above  the  mountains  rise 

And,  with  a  thousaud  pleasantries,  amuse  : 

She'll  sparkle,  puzzle,  flutter,  raise  a  dust,  1230 

And  fly  conviction,  in  the  dust  she  raised. 

WISDOM    AXD    WIT    DISTINGUISHED. 

Wit,  how  delicious  to  man's  dainty  taste! 
'Tis  precious,  as  the  vehicle  of  sense  ; 
But,  as  its  substitute,  a  dire  disease. 

Pernicious  talent !  flatter'd  by  the  world,  1235 

By  the  blind  world,  which  thinks  the  talent  rare. 
Wisdom  is  rare,  Lorenzo !  wit  abounds  : 
Passion  can  give  it ;  sometimes  wine  inspires 
The  lucky  flash ;  and  madness  rarely  fails. 
Whatever  cause  the  spirit  strongly  stirs,  1240 

Confers  the  bays,  and  rivals  thy  renown. 
For  thy  renown,  'twere  well,  was  this  the  worst ; 
Chance  often  hits  it ;  and,  to  pique  thee  more, 
See  dulness,  bluncVring  on  vivacities, 

Shakes  her  sage  head  at  the  calamity,  1245 

Which  has  exposed,  and  let  her  down  to  thee. 
But  wisdom,  awful  Avisdom  !  which  inspects, 
Discerns,  compares,  weighs,  separates,  infers, 
Seizes  the  right,  and  holds  it  to  the  last ; 

1241.  Confers  the  bays  :  Confers  distinction;  the  branches  of  the  laurel- 
tree,  wrought  into  a  garland,  having  been  presented  by  the  ancients  as  an 
honorary  rr-\vard  of  success  in  their  s:ames. 


4  10  THE    COMPLAINT. 

How  rare  !     In  senates,  synods,  sought  in  vain  ;  1250 

Or  if  there  found,  'tis  sacred  to  the  few ; 

While  a  lewd  prostitute  to  multitudes, 

Frequent,  as  fatal,  wit.     In  civil  life, 

"Wit  makes  an  enterpriser ;  sense,  a  man. 

W"it  hates  authority,  commotion  loves,  1255 

And  thinks  herself  the  lightning  of  the  storm. 

In  states,  'tis  dangerous ;  in  religion,  death. 

Shall  we  turn  Christian,  when  the  dull  helieve  ? 

Sense  is  our  helmet,  wit  is  but  the  plume  ; 

The  plume  exposes,  'tis  our  helmet  saves.  12G0 

Sense  is  the  diamond,  weighty,  solid,  sound  : 

When  cut  by  wit,  it  casts  a  brighter  beam ; 

Yet  wit  apart,  it  is  a  diamond  still. 

Wit  widow'd  of  good  sense,  is  worse  than  nought ; 

It  hoists  more  sail  to  run  against  a  rock.  1265 

Thus,  a  half-Chesterfield  is  quite  a  fool ; 

Whom  dull  fools  scorn,  and  bless  their  want  of  wit. 

A    WARNING    AGAINST   THE    SIRENS'    SONG. 

How  ruinous  the  rock  I  warn  thee  shun, 

1251.  An  enterpriser:  A  bold  and  reckless  adventurer,  ready  to  undertake 
a  hazardous  enterprise. 

1257.  In  7-cIigion.  death :  And  yet  who  more  witty  than  Dr,  Young;,  and 
even  on  religious  subjects?  But  he  evidently  refers  to  infidel  wit— to  wit 
uncontrolled  by  religious  principle,  and  opposed  to  it.  It  may  here  be 
observed,  however,  that  the  religious  impression  of  our  author's  "Night 
Thoughts''  would  have  been  deeper  if  his  wit  had  been  more  sparingly  em- 
ployed. It  would,  however,  have  had  in  that  case,  perhaps,  fewer  readers 
among  men  of  the  world. 

12.59.  Who  does  not  admire  the  fine  metaphor  of  the  helmet  and  plume, 
also  of  the  diamond  in  1261,  but  we  think  the  effect  of  these  is  injured  by 
appending  so  soon  the  metaphor  of  a  vessel  (1265). 

1266.  A  half- Chesterfield :  One  who  has  his  wit,  but  only  half  his  sense 

1269.  Sirens:  Anthon  describes  them  as  two  maidens,  celebrated  in  fable, 
who  occupied  an  island  of  Ocean,  where  they  sat  in  a  mead  close  to  the 
sea-shore,  and  with  their  melodious  voices  so  charmed    those  that  wore 


NIGHT    VIII.  411 

Where  Sirens  sit  to  sing  thee  to  thy  fate ! 

A  joy,  in  which  our  reason  bears  no  part,  1270 

Is  but  a  sorrow,  tickling,  ere  it  stings. 

Let  not  the  cooings  of  the  world  allure  thee ; 

Which  of  her  lovers  ever  found  her  true  ? 

Happy  !  of  this  bad  world  who  little  know  ! — 

And  yet,  we  much  must  know  her,  to  be  safe.  1275 

To  know  the  world,  not  love  her,  is  thy  point : 

She  gives  but  little,  nor  that  little,  long. 

There  is,  I  grant,  a  triumph  of  the  pulse ; 

A  dance  of  spirits,  a  mere  froth  of  joy, 

Our  thoughtless  agitation's  idle  child,  1280 

That  mantles  high,  that  sparkles,  and  expires, 

Leaving  the  soul  more  vapid  than  before  ; 

An  animal  ovation  !  such  as  holds 

No  commerce  with  our  reason,  but  subsists 

On  juices,  thro'  the  well-toned  tubes,  well  strain'd;  1285 

A.  nice  machine !  scarce  ever  tuned  aright : 

And  when  it  jars — thy  Sirens  sing  no  more, 

Thy  dance  is  done ;  the  demi-god  is  thrown 

(Short  apotheosis  !)  beneath  the  man, 

In  coward  gloom  immersed,  or  fell  despair.  1290 

THE    PYRAMID    OF    HAPPINESS. 

Art  thou  yet  dull  enough  despair  to  dread, 
And  startle  at  destruction  ?     If  thou  art, 
Accept  a  buckler,  take  it  to  the  field ; 

sailing  by,  that  they  forgot  home  and  everything  relating  to  it,  and  abode 
with  these  maidens  till  they  perished  from  the  impossibility  of  taking 
nourishment,  and  their  bones  lay  whitening  on  the  strand. 

1281.  Mantles  high  :  Rises  high  on  the  surface. 

1283.  Ovation :  Rejoicing.  The  term  strictly  refers  to  a  lesser  triumph, 
in  which  a  Roman  commander,  after  an  easy  victory  over  foreign  enemies, 
or  over  slaves,  made  a  public  and  joyful  entrance  into  the  city  of  Rome,  not 
in  a  chariot,  as  in  the  greater  triumph,  but  on  horseback,  or  on  foot. 

12S9.  Apotheosis:  Deification.  Alluding  to  the  Roman  practice  of  raising 
distinguished  men.  at  death,  to  the  rank  of  gods  or  demi-gods. 


412  Tnii    COMPLAINT. 

(A  field  of  battle  is  this  mortal  life  !) 

"When  danger  threatens,  lay  it  on  thy  heart ;  1295 

A  single  sentence  proof  against  the  world  : 

c  Soul,  body,  fortune  !  ev'ry  good  pertains 

To  one  of  these  :  but  prize  not  all  alike  : 

The  goods  of  fortune  to  thy  body's  health, 

Body  to  soul,  and  soul  submit  to  God.'  1300 

Wouldst  thou  build  lasting  happiness  ?     Do  this  : 

Th'  inverted  pyramid  can  never  stand. 

Is  this  truth  doubtful  ?     It  outshines  the  sun  ; 
Nay,  the  sun  shines  not,  but  to  shew  us  this, 
The  single  lesson  of  mankind  on  earth,  1305 

And  yet — Yet,  what?     No  news  !     Mankind  is  mad  ! 
Such  mighty  numbers  list  against  the  right, 
(And  what  can't  numbers  when  bewitch'd  achieve !) 
They  talk  themselves  to  something  like  belief, 
That  all  earth's  joys  are  theirs  :  as  Athens'  fool  1310 

Grinn'd  from  the  port,  on  ev'ry  sail  his  own. 

the  world's  mirth. 

They  grin  ;  but  wherefore  ?  and  how  long  the  laugh  ? 
Half  ignorance,  their  mirth  ;  and  half  a  He  ; 
To  cheat  the  world,  and  cheat  themselves,  they  smile. 
Hard  either  task  !     The  most  abandon'd  own,  1315 

That  others,  if  abandon'd,  are  undone : 
Then,  for  themselves,  the  moment  reason  wakes, 
(And  Providence  denies  it  long  repose) 
O  how  laborious  is  their  gaiety ! 
They  scarce  can  swallow  their  ebullient  spleen,  1320 

1299.  The  goods  of  fortune  submit  to  thy  body's  health:  That  is,  prize  the 
former  less  than  the  latter. 

1310.  Athens1  fool:  Thrasyllus,  who,  being  seized  with  a  strange  infatu- 
ation, left  his  abode  in  the  city,  and  took  up  his  residence  in  the  Piraeus,  and 
there  regarded  as  his  own  all  the  vessels  that  entered  and  passed  out  of  tho 
harbour,  rejoicing  greatly  in  their  safe  arrival. 

1320.  Ebullient:  Gushing  or  boiling  up. 


mam  vin.  413 

Scarce  muster  patience  to  support  the  farce, 

And  pump  sad  laughter,  till  the  curtain  falls. 

Scarce,  did  I  say  ?     Some  cannot  sit  it  out ; 

Oft  their  own  daring  hands  the  curtain  draw, 

And  shew  us  what  their  joy,  by  their  despair.  1325 

The  clotted  hair  !  gored  breast !  blaspheming  eye  ! 
Its  impious  fury  still  alive  in  death  ! — 
Shut,  shut  the  shocking  scene — But  Heav'n  denies 
A  cover  to  such  guilt ;  and  so  should  man. 
Look  round,  Lorenzo  !  see  the  reeking  blade.  1330 

Th'  envenom'd  phial,  and  the  fatal  ball ; 
The  strangling  cord,  and  suffocating  stream ; 
The  loathsome  rottenness,  and  foul  decays 
From  raging  riot  (slower  suicides  !) 

And  pride  in  these  more  execrable  still !  1335 

How  horrid  all  to  thought ! — But  horrors,  these, 
That  vouch  the  truth  ;  and  aid  my  feeble  song. 

THE    CHRISTIAN'S   JOY. 

From  vice,  sense,  fancy,  no  man  can  be  blest : 
Bliss  is  too  great  to  lodge  within  an  hour. 
"When  an  immortal  being  aims  at  bliss,  1340 

Duration  is  essential  to  the  name. 
0  for  a  joy  from  reason !  joy  from  that, 
Which  makes  man,  man  ;  and  exercised  aright, 
Will  make  him  more :  a  bounteous  joy !  that  gives 
And  promises;  that  weaves,  with  art  divine,  1345 

The  richest  prospect  into  present  peace  : 
A  joy  ambitious  !  joy  in  common  held 
With  thrones  ethereal,  and  their  greater  far : 

1322.  Pump  sad  laughter :  A  striking  form  of  expression  to  indicate  the 
hypocrisy  of  their  mirth,  and  the  difficulty  of  appearing  happy. 

1324.  The  curtain  draw  that  separates  them  from  the  invisible  world. 
The  phrase  is  derived  from  the  practice  of  drawing  a  curtain,  or  letting  it 
fall  before  the  stage  in  a  theatre,  when  the  play  is  concluded.  The  act  of 
suicide  is  here  indicated,  and  more  fully  described  in  the  next  paragraph. 


414  THE    COMPLAINT. 

A  joy  high  privileged  from  chance,  time,  death ! 

A  joy,  which  death  shall  double,  judgment  crown  !  1350 

Crown' d  higher,  and  still  higher,  at  each  stage, 

Through  blest  eternity's  long  day  ;  yet  still, 

Not  more  remote  from  sorrow,  than  from  Him, 

Whose  lavish  hand,  whose  love  stupendous,  pours 

So  much  of  Deity  on  guilty  dust.  1355 

There,  O  my  Lucia  !  may  I  meet  thee  there, 

Where  not  thy  presence  can  improve  my  bliss  ! 

THE    DIFFERENCE    BETWEEN    A    WISE    MAN    AND    A    FOOL. 

Affects  not  this  the  sages  of  the  world  ? 
Can  nought  affect  them,  but  what  fools  them  too  ? 
Eternity  depending  on  an  hour,  1360 

Makes  serious  thought  man's  wisdom,  joy,  and  praise. 
Nor  need  you  blush  (though  sometimes  your  designs 
May  shun  the  light)  at  your  designs  on  heav'n : 
Sole  point!  where  over-bashful  is  your  blame. 
Are  you  not  wise  ?     You  know  you  are :  yet  hear  1365 

One  truth,  amid  your  num'rous  schemes,  mislaid, 
Or  overlook'd,  or  thrown  aside,  if  seen  : 
'  Our  schemes  to  plan  by  this  world,  or  the  next, 
Is  the  sole  difference  between  wise  and  fool.' 
All  worthy  men  will  weigh  you  in  the  scale;  1370 

What  wonder,  then,  if  they  pronounce  you  light  ? 
Is  their  esteem  alone  not  worth  your  care  ? 
Accept  my  simple  scheme  of  common  sense : 
Thus,  save  your  fame,  and  make  two  worlds  your  own. 
The  world  replies  not; — but  the  world  persists  ;  1375 

And  puts  the  cause  off  to  the  longest  day, 
Planning  evasions  for  the  day  of  doom. 
So  far,  at  that  re-hearing,  from  redress, 
They  then  turn  witnesses  against  themselves. 

1356.  My  Lucia :  The  author's  deceased  wife. 

1368.  To  plan  our  schemes  by  this  world  or  the  next.  &i\ 


NIGHT    VIII.  415 

Hoar  that,  Lorenzo  !  nor  be  wise  to-morrow  :  1380 

Haste,  haste  !  a  man,  by  nature,  is  in  haste  ; 
For  who  shall  answer  for  another  hour  ? 
'Tis  highly  prudent,  to  make  one  sure  friend ; 
And  that  thou  canst  not  do  this  side  the  skies. 

Ye  sons  of  earth !  (nor  willing  to  be  more !)  1385 

Since  verse  you  think  from  priestcraft  somewhat  free, 
Thus,  in  an  age  so  gay,  the  muse  plain  truths 
(Truths,  which  at  church  you  might  have  heard  in  prose) 
Has  ventured  into  light ;  well  pleased  the  verse 
Should  be  forgot,  if  you  the  truths  retain  ;  1390 

And  crown  her  with  your  welfare,  not  your  praise. 
But  praise  she  need  not  fear  :  I  see  my  fate  ; 
And  headlong  leap,  like  Curtras,  down  the  gulf. 
Since  many  an  ample  volume,  mighty  tome, 
Must  die !  and  die  unwept ;  O  thou  minute,  1395 

Devoted  page !  go  forth  among  thy  foes  ; 
Go,  nobly  proud  of  martyrdom  for  truth, 
And  die  a  double  death.     Mankind  incensed, 
Denies  thee  long  to  live :  nor  shalt  thou  rest, 
When  thou  art  dead  :  in  Stygian  shades  arraign'd  1400 

13S0.   Ventured  to  bring  into  light. 

1393.  Like  Curtius :  The  story  drawn  from  Livy  (Bk.  vii.  6)  is  thus  re- 
lated in  an  abbreviated  form  by  Anthon :  The  ground  near  the  middle  of  the 
Forum  (at  Rome) ,  in  consequence  either  of  an  earthquake,  or  of  some 
other  violent  cause,  sank  down  to  an  immense  depth,  forming  a  vast  aper- 
ture ;  nor  could  the  gulf  be  filled  up  by  all  the  earth  which  they  could 
throw  into  it.  At  last  the  soothsayers  declared  that  if  they  wished  the 
commonwealth  to  be  everlasting,  they  must  devote  to  this  chasm  what  con- 
stituted the  principal  strength  of  the  Roman  people.  Curtius,  on  hearing 
the  answer,  demanded  of  his  countrymen  whether  they  possessed  anything 
so  valuable  as  their  arms  and  their  courage.  They  yielded  a  silent  assent 
to  the  question  put  them  by  the  heroic  youth,  whereupon,  having  arrayed 
himself  in  full  armour,  and  mounted  his  horse,  he  plunged  into  the  chasm, 
and  the  people  threw  after  him  their  offerings,  and  quantities  of  the  fruits 
of  the  earth.  Valerius  Maximus  states  that  the  earth  closed  immediately 
over  him.  Livy,  however,  speaks  of  a  lake  occupying  the  spot,  called 
Lacus  Curtius. 

1400.   Stygian  shades  arraign  d  :  An  allusion  to  the  gloomy  world  of  the 


41 G  THE    COMPLAINT. 

By  Lucifer,  as  traitor  to  bis  throne  ; 

And  bold  blasphemer  of  bis  friend, — the  World : 

The  world,  whose  legions  cost  him  slender  pay, 

And  volunteers  around  his  banner  swarm  : 

Prudent  as  Prussia,  in  her  zeal  for  Gaul.  1405 

'  Are  all,  then,  fools  V  Lorenzo  cries. — Yes,  all, 
But  such  as  hold  this  doctrine  (new  to  thee ;) 
'  The  mother  of  true  wisdom,  is  the  will :' 
The  noblest  intellect,  a  fool  without  it. 

World-wisdom  much  has  done,  and  more  may  do,  1410 

In  arts  and  sciences,  in  Avars  and  peace ; 
But  art  and  science,  like  thy  wealth,  will  leave  thee, 
And  make  thee  twice  a  beggar  at  thy  death. 
This  is  the  most  indulgence  can  afford  ; — 
'Thy  wisdom  all  can  do,  but — make  thee  wise.'  1415 

Nor  think  this  censure  is  severe  on  thee  ; 
Satan,  thy  master,  I  dare  call  a  dunce. 

dead,  the  region  over  which  Pluto  presided,  and  where,  according  to  the 
classical  fable,  Minos,  wSacus,  and  Rhadamanthus  allotted  to  each  of  the 
dead  brought  before  their  tribunal,  the  bliss  or  pain  of  their  future  exist- 
ence. Lucifer  (a  name  applied  to  Satan)  k  represented  as  bringing  a  charge 
against  the  "Night  Thoughts,"  as  traitor  to  his  throne.     Compare  1417. 

140S.  The  idea  here  conveyed  seems  to  be  this :  We  cannot  be  truly  wise 
without  an  exercise  of  the  will  in  the  right  direction,  or  unless  it  choose 
right  objects  of  pursuit. 

1416.   On  thee  (alone). 


THE    CONSOLATION. 


ex  e 

■  ■    ■  ■ 


NIGHT  IX. 


THE   CONSOLATION. 

CONTAINING,    AMONG    OTHER    THINGS, 

1.  A  MORAL  SURVEY  OF  THE  NOCTURNAL  HEAVENS. 

2.  A  NIGHT-ADDRESS  TO  THE  DEITY. 


Sugrrikit  tn  tljt  Duke  nf  lirmrastli. 


Fatis  contraria  Fata  rependens. — ViaGii^ 


AS  when  a  traveller,  a  long  day  past 
In  painful  search  of  what  he  cannot  find, 
At  night's  approach,  content  with  the  next  cot, 
There  ruminates,  a  while,  his  labour  lost ; 
Then  cheers  his  heart  with  what  his  fate  affords,  5 

And  chants  his  sonnet  to  deceive  the  time, 
Till  the  due  season  calls  him  to  repose : 
Thus  I,  long  travell'd  in  the  ways  of  men, 
And  dancing,  with  the  rest,  the  giddy  maze, 

1.  By  this  impressive  simile,  Dr.  Young  forcibly  describes  his  advanc- 
ing years,  and  a  portion  of  his  sad  experience  in  the  affairs  of  human  life. 
He  was  about  sixty  years  of  age  when  he  began  to  write  the  "Night 
Thoughts,"  and  occupied  in  their  composition  some  three  or  four  years. 


420  THE    CONSOLATION. 

Where  disappointment  smiles  at  hope's  career  ;  10 

Warn'd.  by  the  languor  of  life's  ev'ning  ray, 

At  length  have  housed  me  in  an  humble  shed ; 

Where,  future  wand'ring  banish'd  from  my  thought, 

And  waiting,  patient,  the  sweet  hour  of  rest, 

I  chase  the  moments  with  a  serious  song.  15 

Song  sooths  our  pains  ;  and  age  has  pains  to  sooth. 

When  age,  care,  crime,  and  friends  embraced  at  heart, 
Torn  from  my  bleeding  breast,  and  death's  dark  shade 
W^hich  hovers  o'er  me,  quench  th'  ethereal  .fire ; 
Canst  thou,  O  Night !  indulge  one  labour  more?  20 

One  labour  more  indulge  !  then  sleep,  my  strain ! 
Till,  haply,  waked  by  Raphael's  golden  lyre, 
Where  night,  death,  age,  care,  crime,  and  sorrow,  cease ; 
To  bear  a  part  in  everlasting  lays  ; 

Though  far,  far  higher  set,  in  aim,  I  trust,  25 

Symphonious  to  this  humble  prelude  here. 

Has  not  the  muse  asserted  pleasures  pure, 
Like  those  above  exploding  other  joys  ? 
Weigh  what  was  urg'd,  Lorenzo !  fairly  weigh ; 
And  tell  me,  hast  thou  cause  to  triumph  still  ?  30 

I  think  thou  wilt  forbear  a  boast  so  bold. 
But  if,  beneath  the  favour  of  mistake, 
Thy  smile's  sincere ;  not  more  sincere  can  be 
Lorenzo's  smile,  than  my  compassion  for  him. 
The  sick  in  body  call  for  aid  ;  the  sick  35 

In  mind  are  covetous  of  more  disease ; 
And  when  at  worst,  they  dream  themselves  quite  well. 
To  know  ourselves  diseased,  is  half  our  cure. 
When  nature's  blush  by  custom  is  wij^ed  off, 
And  conscience,  deaden'd  by  repeated  strokes,  40 

Has  into  manners  naturalized  our  crimes, 

13.  It  is  supposed  that  the  expression  of  this,  and  of  similar  sentiments 
in  his  writings,  was  made  use  of  by  the  British  ministry  as  a  pretext  for 
withdrawing  from  oui  author  such  preferment  as  he  was  not  unfrequently 
aspiring  after  subsequent  to  this  period. 

26.   Symphonious :  Of  similar  sound,  agreeing  to. 


NIGHT    IX.  421 

The  curse  of  curses  is,  our  curse  to  love  ; 

To  triumph  in  the  blackness  of  our  guilt, 

(As  Indians  glory  in  the  deepest  jet ;) 

And  throw  aside  our  senses  -with  our  peace.  45 

But,  grant  no  guilt,  no  shame,  no  least  alloy  ; 
Grant  joy  and  glory  quite  unsullied  shone  ; 
Yet,  still,  it  ill  deserves  Lorenzo's  heart. 
No  joy,  no  glory,  glitters  in  thy  sight, 

But,  through  the  thin  partition  of  an  hour,  50 

I  see  its  sables  'wove  by  destiny ; 
And  that  in  sorrow  buried  ;  this,  in  shame ; 
While  howling  furies  ring  the  doleful  knell ; 
And  conscience,  now  so  soft  thou  scarce  canst  hear 
Her  whisper,  echoes  her  eternal  peal.  55 

THE    UNIVERSAL    MORTALITY    OF    MAN. 

Where  the  prime  actors  of  the  last  year's  scene  ; 
Their  port  so  proud,  their  buskin,  and  their  plume  ? 
How  many  sleep,  who  kept  the  world  awake 
With  lustre,  and  with  noise  !     Has  death  proclaim'd 
A  trace,  and  hung  his  sated  lance  on  hi^-h  ?  GO 

'Tis  brandish'd  still ;  nor  shall  the  present  year 

51.  Sables:  Funeral  robes.  Wove  by  destiny :  An  allusion  to  the  Parcae, 
Night  I.  3S0. 

53.  Furies :  An  allusion  is  here  made  to  certain  female  deities  among  the 
ancient  Greeks  and  Romans,  whose  office  it  was  to  arraign  or  punish  both 
gods  and  men  for  transgressions  against  those  they  were  bound  to  esteem  and 
reverence.  It  was  the  office  of  one  of  them  to  produee  fatal  epidemics  and 
contagion;  of  another,  to  excite  to  the  cruelties  and  devastations  of  war : 
of  another,  to  originate  insanity  and  provoke  murders.  They  were  repre- 
sented with  vipers  twining  among  their  hair,  with  a  terrific  countenance, 
with  a  torch  of  discord  or  vengeance  in  one  hand,  and  a  scourge  of  snakes 
in  the  other,  and  clothed  in  dark  and  blood-stained  robes. 

57.  Buskin :  A  very  high  shoe,  or  low  boot,  worn  by  tragedians  on  the 
stage.  Among  the  ancients  it  was  sometimes  made  with  a  very  thick  sole, 
to  raise  the  actors  to  the  stature  of  persons  whom  they  represented.  The 
plume,  or  large  feather;  often  that  of  the  ostrich  was  also  worn  by  them  as 
an  ornament.     It  is  often  put  for  pride. 


422  THE    CONSOLATION. 

Be  more  tent^ious  of  her  human  leaf, 
Or  spread  of  feeble  life  a  thinner  fall. 

But  needless  monuments  to  wake  the  thought ; 
Life's  gayest  scenes  speak  man's  mortality;  (l.*j 

Though  in  a  style  more  florid,  full  as  plain, 
As  mausoleums,  pyramids,  and  tombs. 
What  are  our  noblest  ornaments,  but  deaths 
Turn'd  flatterers  of  life,  in  paint,  or  marble, 
The  well-stain'd  canvass,  or  the  featured  stone  ?  70 

Our  fathers  grace,  or  rather  haunt,  the  scene : 
Joy  peoples  her  pavilion  from  the  dead. 

'  Profest  diversions !  cannot  these  escape  V — ■ 
Far  from  it :  These  present  us  with  a  shroud  ; 
And  talk  of  death,  like  garlands  o'er  a  grave.  75 

As  some  bold  plunderers,  for  buried  wealth, 
We  ransack  tombs  for  pastime ;  from  the  dust 
Call  up  the  sleeping  hero ;  bid  him  tread 
The  scene  for  our  amusement :  how  like  gods 
We  sit ;  and,  wrapt  in  immortality.  '  80 

Shed  gen'rous  tears  on  wretches  born  to  die ; 
Their  fate  deploring,  to  forget  our  own  ! 
What,  all  the  pomps  and  triumphs  of  our  Uvea, 
But  legacies  in  blossom  ?     Our  lean  soil, 
Luxuriant  grown,  and  rank  in  vanities,  85 

From  friends  interr'd  beneath ;  a  rich  manure  ! 
Like  other  worms,  we  banquet  on  the  dead : 
Like  other  worms  shall  we  crawl  on,  nor  know 
Our  present  frailties,  or  approaching  fate  ? 

THE    WORLD,    A    GRAVE. 

Lorenzo  !  such  the  glories  of  the  world  I  9l> 

What  is  the  world  itself  ?  thy  world  ? — A  grave  ! 
Where  is  the  dust  that  has  not  been  alive  ? 

62.   Of  human  leaf:  Human  beings  are  here  represented  under  the  figure 
of  a  leaf,  falling  in  the  autumn. 

6S.  Noblest  ornaments :  Paintings  and  sculpture. 


MGIIT    IX.  423 

The  spade,  the  plough,  disturb  our  ancestors  ; 

From  human  mould  we  reap  our  daily  bread. 

The  globe  around  earth's  hollow  surface  shakes,  95 

And  is  the  ceiling  of  her  sleeping  sons. 

O'er  devastation  we  blind  revels  keep ; 

While  buried  towns  support  the  dancer's  heel. 

The  moist  of  human  frame  the  sun  exhales ; 

"Winds  scatter  through  the  mighty  void,  the  dry  ;  100 

Earth  repossesses  part  of  what  she  gave, 

And  the  freed  spirit  mounts  on  wings  of  fire ; 

Each  element  partakes  our  scatter'd  spoils  ; 

As  nature,  wide,  our  ruins  spread  :  man's  death 

Inhabits  all  things,  but  the  thought  of  man.  105 

EMPIRES    DIE. 

Nor  man  alone  ;  his  breathing  bust  expires, 
His  tomb  is  mortal ;  empires  die.     Where  now, 
The  Roman  ?     Greek  ?     They  stalk,  an  empty  name  ! 
Yet  few  regard  them  in  this  useful  light ; 
Though  half  our  learning  is  their  epitaph.  110 

When  down  thy  vale,  unlock'd  by  midnight  thought, 
That  loves  to  wander  in  thy  sunless  realms, 
O  death  !  I  stretch  my  view  ;  what  visions  rise  ! 
What  triumphs !  toils  imperial  !  arts  divine ! 
In  wither'd  laurels  glide  before  my  sight !  115 

What  lengths  of  far-famed  ages,  billow'd  high 
With  human  agitation,  roll  along 
In  unsubstantial  images  of  air ! 
The  melancholy  ghosts  of  dead  renown, 

Whisp'ring  faint  echoes  of  the  world's  applause,  120 

With  penitential  aspect,  as  they  pass, 
All  point  at  earth,  and  hiss  at  human  pride, 
The  wisdom  of  the  wise,  and  prancings  of  the  great. 

99.  The  moist  (parts). 

110.  Half  our  learning  is  their  epitaph:    Consists  of   the  memorials    of 
what  they  formerly  were  and  did. 


424  THE  CONSOLATION. 


THE  MORTALITY  OF  THE  DELUGE. 


But,  0  Lorenzo !  far  the  rest  above, 
Of  ghastly  nature,  and  enormous  size,  125 

One  form  assaults  my  sight,  and  chills  my  blood, 
And  shakes  my  frame.     Of  one  departed  world 
I  see  the  mighty  shadow :  oozy  wreath 
And  dismal  sea-weed  crown  her ;  o'er  her  urn 
Reclined,  she  weeps  her  desolated  realms,  130 

And  bloated  sons  ;  and,  Aveeping,  prophesies 
Another's  dissolution,  soon,  into  flames. 
But,  like  Cassandra,  prophesies  in  vain ; 
In  vain,  to  many ;  not,  I  trust,  to  thee. 

For,  know'st  thou  not,  or  art  thou  loath  to  know,  135 

The  great  decree,  the  counsel  of  the  skies  ? 
Deluge  and  conflagration,  dreadful  pow'rs ! 
Prime  ministers  of  vengeance !     Chain'd  in  caves 
Distinct,  apart,  the  giant  furies  roar ; 

Apart ;  or,  such  their  horrid  rage  for  ruin,  140 

In  mutual  conflict  would  they  rise,  and  wage 
Eternal  war,  till  one  was  cmite  devour'd. 
But  not  for  this  ordain'd  their  boundless  rage  : 
When  Heav'n's  inferior  instruments  of  wrath, 
War,  famine,  pestilence,  are  found  too  weak  145 

To  scourge  a  world  for  her  enormous  crimes, 
These  are  let  loose,  alternate :  down  they  rush, 
Swift  and  tempestuous,  from  th'  eternal  throne, 
With  irresistible  commission  arm'd, 

The  world,  in  vain  corrected,  to  destroy,  150 

And  ease  creation  of  the  shocking  scene. 

133.  Like  Cassandra :  She  was  the  daughter  of  Priam,  king  of  Troy,  and 
Hecuba.  Beloved  by  Apollo,  she  promised  to  listen  to  his  addresses,  pro- 
vided he  would  grant  her  the  knowledge  of  futurity.  Having  obtained  this 
knowledge,  she  was  regardless  of  her  promise,  and  Apollo,  in  revenge,  de- 
termined that  no  credit  should  be  given  to  her  predictions.  Accordingly  he 
caused  that  her  warnings  respecting  the  downfall  of  Troy,  and  the  ensuing 
sufferings  of  her  race,  should  be  disregarded  by  her  countrymen. — J&nthon. 


NIGHT    IX.  425 


THE    LAST    SOENB    OF    NATURE. 

Seest  thou,  Lorenzo  !  what  depends  on  man  ? 
The  fate  of  nature  ;  as  for  man  her  birth. 
Earth's  actors  change  earth's  transitory  scenes, 
And  make  creation  groan  with  human  guilt.  155 

How  must  it  groan  in  a  new  deluge  whelm'd, 
But  not  of  waters !     At  the  destined  hour, 
By  the  loud  trumpet  summon' d  to  the  charge, 
See,  all  the  formidable  sons  of  fire, 
Eruptions,  earthquakes,  comets,  lightnings,  play 
Their  various  engines  ;  all  at  once  disgorge  161 

Their  blazing  magazines  ;  and  take,  by  storm, 
This  poor  terrestrial  citadel  of  man. 

Amazing  period  !  when  each  mountain-height 
Out-burns  Vesuvius  ;  rocks  eternal  pour  165 

Their  melted  mass,  as  rivers  once  they  pour'd ; 
Stars  rush  ;  and  final  ruin  fiercely  drives 
Her  ploughshare  o'er  creation  ! — While  aloft, 
More  than  astonishment !  if  more  can  be  ! 
Far  other  firmament  than  e'er  was  seen,  170 

Than  e'er  was  thought  by  man  !     Far  other  stars  ! 
Stars  animate,  that  govern  these  of  fire ; 
Far  other  sun  ! — A  Sun,  0  how  unlike 
The  Babe  of  Bethle'm !     How  unlike  the  man 
That  groan'd  on  Calvary  ! — Yet  He  it  is ;  lYo 

That  man  of  sorrows !     0  how  changed !     What  pomp  I 
In  grandeur  terrible,  all  heav'n  descends ! 
And  gods,  ambitious,  triumph  in  his  train. 


159  Sons  of  fire:  A  lively  personification  of  things  inanimate.  The  fol- 
lowing description  awakens  sublime  and  thrilling  emotions.  The  figure  of 
ruin  fiercely  driving  her  ploughshare  o'er  creation,  is  exceedingly  graphic.  It 
seems  to  be  an  allusion  to  the  Roman  ploughshare  that  was  urged  through 
the  ruins  of  the  temple  and  city  of  Jerusalem  by  Titus. 

178.  Gcds:  Angels. 


426  THE    CONSOLATION. 

A  swift  archangel  with  his  golden  wino-, 

As  blots  and  clouds,  that  darken  and  disgrace  180 

The  scene  divine,  sweep  stars  and  suns  aside. 

And  now,  all  dross  removed,  heav'n's  own  pure  day, 

Full  on  the  confines  of  our  ether,  flames  : 

While  (dreadful  contrast !)  far,  how  far  beneath ! 

Hell  bursting,  belches  forth  her  blazing  seas,  185 

And  storms  sulphureous  ;  her  voracious  jaws 

Expanding  wide,  and  roaring  for  her  prey. 

Lorenzo !  welcome  to  this  scene ;  the  last 
In  nature's  course ;  the  first  in  wisdom's  thought. 
This  strikes,  if  aught  can  strike  thee;  this  awakes  190 

The  most  supine ;  this  snatches  man  from  death. 
Rouse,  rouse,  Lorenzo,  then,  and  follow  me, 
Where  truth,  the  most  momentous  man  can  hear, 
Loud  calls  my  soul,  and  ardour  wings  her  flight. 
I  find  my  inspiration  in  my  theme :  195 

The  grandeur  of  my  subject  is  my  muse. 

At  midnight  (when  mankind  is  wrapt  in  peace, 
And  worldly  fancy  feeds  on  golden  dreams  ;) 
To  give  more  dread  to  man's  most  dreadful  hour, 
At  midnight,  'tis  presumed  this  pomp  will  burst  200 

From  tenfold  darkness  ;  sudden  as  the  spark 
From  smitten  steel ;  from  nitrous  grain,  the  blaze. 
Man,  starting  from  his  couch,  shall  sleep  no  more  ! 
The  day  is  broke,  which  never  more  shall  close  ! 
Above,  around,  beneath,  amazement  all !  205 

Terror  and  glory,  join'd  in  their  extremes  ! 
Our  GOD  in  grandeur,  and  our  world  on  fire  ! 
All  nature  struggling  in  the  pangs  of  death  ! 
Dost  thou  not  hear  her  ?     Dost  thou  not  deplore 

17&-S1.  What  a  splendid  imagination  is  here  exhibited. 

184.  The  dreadful  contrast  that  follows,  is  powerfully  drawn. 

196.  Is  my  muse:  Is  that  which  inspires  and  elevates  my  mind.  The 
passage  which  here  commences,  gives  evidence  of  the  workings  of  a  mind 
uncommon)/  elevated,  and  inspired  by  the  subject  it  tvas  contemplating  and 
Jescribing.     Few  passages  awake  as  sublime  emotions  in  the  serious  mind. 


NIGHT    IX.  4_'T 

Her  strong;  convulsions,  and  her  final  groan?  210 

Where  are  we  now  I     Ah  me  !  the  ground  is  gone 
On  which  we  stood  :  Lorenzo  !     While  thou  ma 
Provide  more  firm  support,  or  sink  for  ever ! 

re  \  how  ?  from  whence  ''.     Vain  hope  !     It  is  too  late  ! 
re,  where,  for  shelter,  shall  the  guilty  fly,  2  i  5 

When  consternation  turns  the  good  man  pal 

Great  day '.  for  which  ail  other  days  were  made ; 
For  which  earth  rose  from  chaos,  man  from  earth ; 
And  an  eternity,  the  date  of  gods, 

Descended  on  poor  earth-created  man !  220 

Great  day  of  dread,  decision,  and  despair ! 
At  thought  of  thee  each  sublunary  wish 
Lets  go  its  eager  grasp,  and  drops  the  world ; 
And  catches  at  each  reed  of  hope  in  heav'n. 
At  thought  of  thee  '. — And  art  thou  absent,  then  ?  22o 

Lorenzo !  no ;  'tis  here  ;  it  is  begun ; — 
Already  is  begun  the  grand  assize. 
In  thee,  in  all.     Deputed  conscience  scales 
The  dread  tribunal,  and  forestalls  our  doom : 
Forestalls  ;  and  by  forestalling  proves  it  sure.  230 

"Why  on  himself  should  man  void  judgment  pass  ? 
Is  idle  nature  laughing  at  her  sons  ? 
Who  conscience  sent,  her  sentence  will  support ; 
And  GOD  above  assert  that  God  in  man. 

Thrice  happy  they  !  that  enter  now  the  court  235 

Heav'n  opens  in  their  bosoms.     But,  how  rare, 
Ah  me  !  that  magnanimity,  how  rare  ! 
What  hero,  like  the  man  who  stands  himself; 
Who  dares  to  meet  his  naked  heart  alone ; 
Who  hears,  intrepid,  the  full  charge  it  brings,  2i0 

Resolved  to  silence  future  murmurs  there  • 
The  coward  flies  ;  and,  Awing,  is  undone. 
(Art  thou  a  coward  ?     Xo.)     The  coward  flies ; 

233.   Who:  He  who. 

235.   Trie  court :  The  court  of  conscience. 


428  THE    CONSOLATION. 

Thinks,  but  thinks  slightly  ;  asks,  hut  fears  to  know  ; 
Asks,  '  What  is  truth?'  with  Pilate  ;  and  retires  ;  245 

Dissolves  the  court  and  mingles  with  the  throng : 
Asylum  sad  !  from  reason,  hope,  and  heav'n ! 

THE  LAST  DAY  SHOULD  BE  PONDERED  BY  MAN. 

Shall  all,  hut  man,  look  out  with  ardent  eye, 
For  that  great  day,  which  was  ordain'd  for  man  ? 

0  day  of  consummation  !     Mark  supreme  250 
(If  men  are  wise)  of  human  thought !  nor  least, 

Or  in  the  sight  of  angels,  or  their  King ! 

Angels,  whose  radiant  circles,  height  o'er  height, 

Order  o'er  order,  rising,  blaze  o'er  blaze, 

As  in  a  theatre,  surround  this  scene,  255 

Intent  on  man,  and  anxious  for  his  fate. 

Angels  look  out  for  thee  ;  for  thee,  their  Lord, 

To  vindicate  his  glory ;  and  for  thee, 

Creation  universal  calls  aloud, 

To  disinvolve  the  moral  world,  and  give 

To  nature's  renovation  brighter  charms. 

Shall  man  alone,  whose  fate,  whose  final  fate, 
Hangs  on  that  hour,  exclude  it  from  his  thought  1 

1  think  of  nothing  else  ;  I  see  !  I  feel  it ! 

All  nature,  like  an  earthquake,  trembling  round !  265 

All  deities,  like  summer  swarms,  on  wing ! 

All  basking  in  the  full  meridian  blaze ! 

I  see  the  Judge  enthroned  !  the  flaming  guard  ! 

The  volume  open'd  !  open'd  ev'ry  heart : 

A  sun-beam  pointing  out  each  secret  thought !  270 

No  patron  !  intercessor  none  !  now  past 

The  sweet,  the  clement,  mediatorial  hour ! 

For  guilt,  no  plea !  to  pain,  no  pause !  no  bound  1 

Inexorable,  all !  and  all,  extreme ! 

Nor  man  alone  ;  the  foe  of  God  and  man,  275 

252.   Or  in  the :  Either  in  the,  &c. 
266.  Deities:  Angels. 


NIOHT    IX.  429 

From  his  dark  den,  blaspheming,  drags  his  chain, 

And  rears  his  brazen  front,  with  thunder  searr'd ; 

Receives  bis  sentence,  and  begins  his  hell. 

All  vengeance  past,  now,  stic-ms  abundant  grace  : 

Like  meteors  in  a  stormy  sky,  how  lull  280 

His  baleful  eyes !     He  curses  whom  he  dreads  ; 

And  deems  it  the  first  moment  of  his  fall. 

'Tis  present  to  my  thought ' — and  yet,  where  is  it? 
Angels  cant  tell  me  ;  angels  cannot  gui   a 
The  period  ;  from  created  beings  lock'd  285 

In  darkness.     But  the  process,  and  the  place, 
Are  less  obscure ;  for  these  may  man  inquire- 
Say,  thou  great  close  of  human  hopes  and  fears  1 
Great  key  of  hearts !     Great  finisher  of  fates  ! 
Great  end!  and  great  beginning !     Say,  where  art  thou?    290 
Ait  thou  in  time,  or  in  eternity  I 
Nor  in  eternity,  nor  time,  I  find  thee. 
These,  as  two  monarchs,  on  their  borders  meet, 
(Monarchs  of  all  elapsed,  or  unarrived  '.) 

As  in  debate,  how  best  their  pow'rs  allied  295 

May  swell  the  grandeur,  or  discharge  the  wrath 
Of  Him  whom  both  their  monarchies  obey. 

THE    REIGX    OF    TIME    ENDED. 

Time,  this  vast  fabric  for  him  built  (and  doom'd 

277.  With  thunder  searr'd:  Our  author  derived  this  idea  from  Milton: 

Darken'd  so,  yet  shone 
Above  them  all  tlr  Arch-angel :  but  his  face 
Deep  scars  of  thunder  had  intraich'd,  and  care 
Sat  on  bis  faded  cheek  ;  but  under  brows 
Of  dauntless  courage,  and  considerate  pride 
"Waiting  revenge;  cruel  his  eye,  I   . 
Signs  of  remorse  and  passion  to  behold 
The  fellows  of  his  crime,  the  followers  rather 
(Far  other  once  beheld  in  bliss),  condemned 
For  ever  now  to  have  their  lot  in  pain. 

Paradise  Lost,  Book  I.,  599 — COS. 

278.  Begins  his  hell :  His  previous  sufferings  being,  for  severity,  not  worth 
consideration,  in  comparison  with  those  now  and  henceforth,  in  pursuance 
of  the  sentence  of  the  last  day,  to  be  °ndured. 


430  THE    CONSOLATION. 

With  Mm  to  fall)  now  bursting  o'er  his  head  ; 

His  lamp,  the  sun,  extmguish'd  ;  from  beneath  300 

The  frown  of  hideous  darkness,  calls  his  sons 

From  their  long  slumber  ;  from  earth's  heaving  womb 

To  second  birth  ;  contemporary  throng  ! 

Roused  at  one  call,  upstarting  from  one  bed, 

Prest  in  one  crowd,  appall'd  with  one  amaze,  305 

He  turns  them  o'er,  Eternity  !  to  thee. 

Then  (as  a  king  deposed  disdains  to  live) 

He  falls  on  his  own  si  the  ;  nor  falls  alone ; 

His  greatest  foe  falls  with  him  :  Time,  and  he 

Who  murder'd  all  time's  offspring,  Death,  expire.  310 

THE    KEIGN    OF    ETERNITY    BEGUN.       THE    FINAL    SENTENCE. 

Time  was  !     Eternity  now  reigns  alone  : 
Awful  eternity  !  offended  queen  ! 
And  her  resentment  to  mankind,  how  just ! 
With  kind  intent,  soliciting  access, 

How  often  has  she  knock'd  at  human  hearts  !  315 

Rich  to  repay  their  hospitality  ; 
How  often  call'd  !  and  with  the  voice  of  God  ! 
Yet  bore  repulse,  excluded  as  a  cheat ! 
A  dream  !  while  foulest  foes  found  welcome  there  ! 
A  dream,  a  cheat,  now,  all  things,  but  her  smile.  320 

For,  lo !  her  twice  ten  thousand  gates  thrown  wide, 
As  thrice  from  Indus  to  the  frozen  pole, 
With  banners,  streaming  as  the  comet's  blaze. 
And  clarions,  louder  than  the  deep  in  storms. 
Sonorous  as  immortal  breath  can  blow,  325 

Pour  forth  their  myriads,  potentates,  and  pow'rs. 
Of  light,  of  darkness ;  in  a  middle  field, 
Wide  as  creation !  populous,  as  wide  ! 

321-35.  A  truly  sublime  and  noble  passage,  affording  us  an  altogether 
worthy  view  of  one  of  the  grandest  scenes  in  the  history  of  the  universe, 
and  one  in  which  all  mankind  are  deeply  concerned,  though  generally.  Rlas, 
to'>  unwilling  to  anticipate  and  prepare  for  it. 


NIGHT    IX.  431 

A  neutral  region  !  there  to  mark  th'  event 

Of  that  great  drama,  whose  preceding  scenes  330 

Detain'd  them  close  spectators,  through  a  length 

Of  ages,  rip'ning  to  this  grand  result; 

Ages,  as  yet  unnumber'd,  but  by  God ; 

Who,  now,  pronouncing  sentence,  vindicates 

The  rights  of  virtue,  and  his  own  renown.  335 

THE  GRAND  AND  AWFUL  EVENTS  WHICH  FOLLOW  THE  LAST 
SENTENCE. 

Eternity,  the  various  sentence  past, 
Assigns  the  sever'd  throng  distinct  abodes, 
Sulphureous,  or  ambrosial.     What  ensues? 
The  deed  predominant !  the  deed  of  deeds  ! 
Which  makes  a  hell  of  hell,  a  heav'n  of  heav'n.  340 

The  goddess,  with  determined  aspect,  turns 
Her  adamantine  key's  enormous  size 

342.  Her  adamantine  key's,  &c. :  The  passage  connected  with  this  line 
reminds  us  of  some  of  the  most  impressive  lines  of  the  "  Paradise  Lost.-'  It 
bears,  indeed,  some  little  similarity  to  the  quotation  we  are  about  to  make. 
Our  author  makes  eternity  a  goddess,  who  holds  the  keys  of  hell  and  of 
heaven,  which  she  opens,  and  then  shuts  to  be  unlocked  no  more.  This 
accomplished,  the  circumstance  of  hurling  the  keys  into  the  deep,  profound, 
and  fathomless  darkness  there  to  rust,  and  to  be  used  no  more,  impresses 
most  deeply  the  idea  of  the  impossibility  of  future  change  in  the  condition 
of  the  wicked  and  the  good.  It  may  have  been  suggested  to  the  author  by 
that  thrilling  passage  in  the  history  of  Queen  Mary's  escape  from  her  prison 
in  Lochleven  castle,  when  her  loyal  Douglass,  at  the  peril  of  his  life,  pos- 
sessed himself  of  the  keys  of  the  castle,  and  having  unlocked  the  doors  in 
the  way  of  her  escape,  and  having  locked  them  again  upon  the  pursuers, 
bore  the  keys  to  the  lake,  and  when  the  boat  had  reached  the  deepest  part, 
cast  them  into  its  depths,  to  be  used  no  more  against  his  beloved  queen. 

Milton  makes  sin  the  portress  of  hell,  and  thus  writes: 

The  key  of  this  infernal  pit  by  due, 

And  by  command  of  Ileav'n's  all-powerful  Eing, 

I  keep,  by  him  forbidden  to  unlock 

Those  adamantine  gates,  <fec. 

Afterwards  Satan  persuades  her  to  open  them,  and, 

From  her  side  the  fatal  key, 
Sad  instrument  of  all  our  woe,  she  took  ; 


4  32  THE    CONSOLATION. 

Through  destiny's  inextricable  wards, 

Deep  diiving  ev'ry  bolt,  on  both  their  fates : 

Then,  from  the  crystal  battlements  of  heav'n,  34-5 

Down,  down  she  hurls  it  through  the  dark  profound, 

Ten  thousand  thousand  fathom ;  there  to  rust, 

And  ne'er  unlock  her  resolution  more. 

The  deep  resounds  ;  and  hell,  through  all  her  glooms, 

Ke turns,  in  groans,  the  melancholy  roar.  35U 

0  how  unlike  the  chorus  of  the  skies ! 
O  how  unlike  those  shouts  of  joy,  that  shake 
The  whole  ethereal !  how  the  concave  rings ! 
Nor  strange  !  when  deities  their  voice  exalt ; 
And  louder  far,  than  when  creation  rose,  355 

To  see  creation's  godlike  aim,  and  end, 
So  well  accomplish'd  !  so  divinely  closed  ! 
To  see  the  mighty  Dramatist's  last  act 
(As  meet)  in  glory  rising  o'er  the  rest. 

No  fancied  god,  a  God  indeed  descends,  300 

To  solve  all  knots  ;  to  strike  the  moral  home  ; 
To  throw  full  day  on  darkest  scenes  of  time ; 
To  clear,  commend,  exalt,  and  crown  the  whole. 

And  tow'rds  the  gate  rolling  her  bestial  train, 
Forthwith  the  huge  portcullis  high  up-drew, 
Which  hut  herself,  not  all  the.  Stygian  pow"rs 
Could  once  have  moved;  then  in  the  key-hole  turns 
The  intricate  wards,  and  ev'ry  bolt  and  bar 
Of  massy  iron  or  solid  rock  with  easo 
Unfastens.    On  a  sudden  open  fly 
With  impetuous  recoil  and  jarring  sound 
Tli'  infernal  doors,  and  on  their  hinges  grate 
Harsh  thunder,  that  the  lowest  bottom  shook 
Of  Erebus.    She  open'd ;  but  to  shut 
Excell'd  her  power. 

Paradise  Lost,  Booh  II,  871—884. 

358.  Mighty  Dramatist's  last  act :  The  Almighty  is  here  designated.  The 
title,  when  closely  scanned,  seems  not  dignified  or  exalted  enough ;  but  in 
the  connection  it  raises  no  ideas  inconsistent  with  proper  reverence,  and 
may,  therefore,  pass  without  censure. 

361.  To  strike  the  moral  home:  To  impress  on  the  heart  the  moral  lessons 
of  Providence. 


NIGHT    IX.  433 

Hence  in  one  peal  of  loud  eternal  praise, 

The  charm'd  spectators  thunder  their  applause;  365 

And  the  vast  void  beyond,  applause  resounds. 

PHYSICAL   EVILS   DESIGNED    FOR    OUR   MORAL    GOOD. 

What  then  am  I  ? 

Amidst  applauding  worlds, 
And  worlds  celestial,  is  there  found  on  earth, 
A  peevish,  dissonant,  rebellious  string,  370 

"Which  jars  in  the  grand  chorus,  and  complains  ? 
Censure  on  thee,  Lorenzo  !  I  suspend, 
And  turn  it  on  myself;  how  greatly  due ! 
All,  all  is  right,  by  God  ordained  or  done ; 
And  who,  but  God,  resumed  the  friends  he  gave?  375 

And  have  I  been  complaining,  then,  so  long  ? 
Complaining  of  his  favours,  pain,  and  death  ? 
Who,  without  pain's  advice,  would  e'er  be  good  ? 
Who,  without  death,  but  would  be  good  in  vain  I 
Pain  is  to  save  from  pain  ;  all  punishment,  380 

To  make  for  peace ;  and  death,  to  save  from  death  ; 
And  second  death,  to  guard  immortal  life ; 
To  rouse  the  careless,  the  presumptuous  awe, 
And  turn  the  tide  of  souls  another  way : 
By  the  same  tenderness  divine  ordain'd,  385 

That  planted  Eden,  and  high-bloom,d  for  man, 
A  fairer  Eden,  endless  in  the  skies. 

Heav'n  gives  us  friends  to  bless  the  present  scene  ; 
Resumes  them,  to  prepare  us  for  the  next. 
All  evils  natural  are  moral  goods  ;  390 

All  discipline,  indulgence,  on  the  whole. 
None  are  unhappy  :  all  have  cause  to  smile, 
But  such  as  to  themselves  that  cause  deny. 
Our  faults  are  at  the  bottom  of  our  pains  ; 
Error,  in  act,  or  judgment,  is  the  source  395 

Of  endless  sighs.     We  sin,  or  we  mistake 
And  nature  tax,  when  false  opinion  stings. 
19 


I  "4  THE    CONSOLATION. 

Let  impious  grief  be  banish'd,  joy  indulged  5 

But  chiefly  then,  when  grief  puts  in  her  claim. 

Joy  from  the  joyous,  frequently  betrays  \  400 

Oft  lives  in  vanity,  and  dies  in  wo. 

Joy  amidst  ills,  corroborates,  exalts ; 

'Tis  joy,  and  conquest ;  joy,  and  virtue  too. 

A  noble  fortitude  in  ills,  delights 

Heav'n,  earth,  ourselves ;  'tis  duty,  glory,  peace.  405 

Affliction  is  the  good  man's  shining  scene : 

Prosperity  conceals  his  brightest  ray : 

As  night  to  stars,  wo  lustre  gives  to  man. 

Heroes  in  battle,  pilots  in  the  storm, 

And  virtue  in  calamities,  admire.  410 

The  crown  of  manhood  is  a  winter-joy  ; 

An  evergreen,  that  stands  the  northern  blast, 

And  blossoms  in  the  rigour  of  our  fate. 

'Tis  a  prime  part  of  happiness  to  know 
How  much  unhappiness  must  prove  our  lot;  415 

A  part  which  few  possess  !     I'll  pay  life's  tax, 
Without  one  rebel  murmur,  from  this  hour, 
Nor  think  it  misery  to  be  a  man : 
Who  thinks  it  is,  shall  never  be  a  god. 
Some  ills  we  wish  for,  when  we  wish  to  live.  420 

EXISTENCE    AN    INESTIMABLE    BLESSING. 

What  spoke  proud  passion  ? — '  Wish  my  being  lost  ? 
Presumptuous  !  blasphemous  !  absurd !  and  false ! 
The  triumph  of  my  soul  is, — That  I  am ; 
And  therefore  that  I  may  be — What  ?  Lorenzo  ? 
Look  inward,  and  look  deep  ;  and  deeper  still :  42i 

Unfathomably  deep  our  treasure  runs 
In  golden  veins,  through  all  eternity ! 
Ages,  and  ages,  and  succeeding  still 

415.  Must  prove  (to  be)  our  lot. 

421.  Wish,  be. :  Referring;  to  Night  I. 


NIGHT    IX.  435 

New  ages,  where  this  phantom  of  an  hour, 

Which  courts,  each  night,  dull  slumber,  for  repair,  430 

Shall  wake,  and  wonder,  and  exult,  and  praise, 

And  fly  through  infinite,  and  all  unlock  ; 

And  (if  deserved)  by  Heav'n's  redundant  love, 

Made  half  adorable  itself,  adore; 

And  find,  in  adoration,  endless  joy  !  435 

Where  thou,  not  master  of  a  moment  here, 

Frail  as  the  flow'r,  and  fleeting  as  the  gale, 

Mayst  boast  a  whole  eternity,  enrich'd 

With  all  a  kind  Omnipotence  can  pour. 

Since  Adam  fell,  no  mortal,  uninspired,  440 

Has  ever  yet  conceived,  or  ever  shall, 

How  kind  is  God,  how  great  (if  good)  is  man. 

No  man  too  largely  from  Heav'n's  love  can  hope, 

If  what  is  hoped  he  laboui-s  to  secure. 

THE    SEVERITIES    OF    GOD'S    GOVERNMENT    VINDICATED. 

Ills  ? — there  are  none  :  All-gracious  :  none  from  Thee  ;    445 
From  man  full  many  !     Num'rous  is  the  race 
Of  blackest  ills,  and  those  immortal  too, 
Begot  by  madness  on  fair  liberty  ; 
Heav'n's  daughter,  hell-debauch'd  !  her  hand  alone 
Unlocks  destruction  to  the  sons  of  men,  450 

First  barr'd  by  Time  ;  high  wall'd  with  adamant, 
Guarded  with  terrors  reaching  to  this  world, 
And  cover'd  with  the  thunders  of  Thy  law  ; 
Whose  threats  are  mercies  ;  whose  injunctions,  guides, 
Assisting,  not  restraining,  reason's  choice;  455 

Whose  sanctions,  unavoidable  results 
From  nature's  course,  indulgently  reveal'd  ; 

429.  This  phantom  of  an  hour :  The  soul  in  its  present  fugitive  or  transient 
abode. 

448.  -Fair  liberty :  The  faculty  by  which  we  choose  good  or  evil  is  here 
personified.  This  was  hell-debauch'd,  corrupted  by  Satan  in  Paradise,  and 
ever  since  unduly  influenced  by  him  to  the  choice  of  evil. 


43rt  THE    CONSOLATION. 

If  unreveal'd,  more  dang'rous,  nor  less  sure. 

Thus,  an  indulgent  father  warns  his  sons, 

'Do  this;  fly  that' — nor  always  tells  the  cause  ;  460 

Pleased  to  reward,  as  duty  to  his  will, 

A  conduct  needful  to  their  own  repose. 

Great  God  of  wonders  !  (if,  thy  love  survey'd, 
Aught  else  the  name  of  wTonderful  retains) 
What  rocks  are  these,  on  which  to  build  our  trust !  465 

Thy  ways  admit  no  blemish  ;  none  I  find ; 
Or  this  alone — '  That  none  is  to  be  found.' 
Not  one,  to  soften  censure's  hardy  crime ; 
Not  one,  to  palliate  peevish  grief's  complaint, 
Who,  like  a  demon  murm'ring,  from  the  dust,  470 

Dares  into  judgment  call  her  Judge. — Supreme  ! 
For  all  I  bless  thee  ;  most,  for  the  severe  : 

Her  death — my  own  at  hand — the  fiery  gulf, 
That  flaming  bound  of  wrath  omnipotent ! 
It  thunders;  but  it  thunders  to  preserve;  475 

It  strengthens  wrhat  it  strikes  ;  its  wholesome  dread 
Averts  the  dreaded  pain ;  its  hideous  groans 
Join  heav'n's  sweet  hallelujahs  in  thy  praise, 
Great  Source  of  good  alone  !     How  kind  in  all ! 
In  vengeance  kind  !  pain,  death,  Gehenna  save.  480 

Thus,  in  thy  "world  material,  mighty  Mind  ! 
Not  that  alone  which  solaces,  and  shines, 
The  rough  and  gloomy,  challenges  our  praise. 
The  winter  is  as  needful  as  the  spring ; 

The  thunder  as  the  sun ;  a  stagnate  mass  485 

Of  vapours  breeds  a  pestilential  air  : 
Nor  more  propitious  the  Favonian  breeze 
To  nature's  health,  than  purifying  storms. 

468.  To  soften,  &c. :  To  soften  the  hardy  crime  of  censuring  the  ways  ot 
God. 

473.  Her  death :  Lucia's. 

487.  Favonian  r  The  gentle  western  bree/.e,  which  prevailed  at  the  com- 
mencement of  spring,  and  promoted  vegetation.  Zephyr  is  another  name 
for  it 


NIGHT    IX.  437 

The  dread  volcano  ministers  to  good : 

Its  smother'd  flames  might  undermine  the  world.  490 

Loud  ./Etnas  fulminate  in  love  to  man  ; 

Comets  good  omens  are,  when  duly  scann'd; 

And,  in  their  use,  eclipses  learn  to  shine. 

Man  is  responsible  for  ills  received ; 
Those  we  call  wretched  are  a  chosen  band,  495 

CompelTd  to  refuge  in  the  right,  for  peace. 
Amid  my  list  of  blessings  infinite, 
Stand  this  the  foremost,  '  That  my  heart  has  bled.' 
'Tis  Heav'n's  last  effort  of  good  will  to  man  : 
When  pain  can't  bless,  Heav'n  quits  us  in  despair.  500 

Who  fails  to  grieve,  when  just  occasion  calls, 
Or  grieves  too  much,  deserves  not  to  be  blest ; 
Inhuman,  or  effeminate,  his  heart : 
Reason  absolves  the  grief,  which  reason  ends. 
May  Heav'n  ne'er  trust  my  friend  with  happiness,  505 

Till  it  has  taught  him  how  to  bear  it  well, 
By  previous  pain  ;  and  made  it  safe  to  smile  ! 
Such  smiles  are  mine,  and  such  may  they  remain  ; 
Nor  hazard  their  extinction,  from  excess. 

My  change  of  heart  a  change  of  style  demands  ;  510 

The  Consolation  cancels  the  Complaint, 
And  makes  a  convert  of  my  guilty  song. 

REVIEW    OF    THE    POEM. 

As  when  o'erlabour'd,  and  inclined  to  breathe, 
A  panting  traveller,  some  rising  ground, 

Some  small  ascent,  has  gain'd,  he  turns  him  round,  515 

And  measures  with  his  eye  the  various  vales, 

504.  Reason  absolves,  &c. :  Reason  approves  the  grief  which  ends  when 
reason  dictates,  and  is  not  carried  to  excess. 

511.  Consolation:  The  title  of  the  present  part;  Complaint,  that  of  all 
the  preceding  parts  of  the  poem.  The  idea  conveyed  is,  that  the  evils  com- 
plained of  in  the  preceding  parts,  should  not  be  regarded  as  such,  and  that 
the  title  of  these  parts  should  be  changed  to  Consolation. 


438  THE    CONSOLATION. 

The  fields,  woods,  meads,  and  rivers,  he  has  pass'd ; 

And,  satiate  of  his  journey,  thinks  of  home, 

Endear'd  by  distance,  nor  affects  more  toil ; 

Thus  I,  though  small,  indeed,  is  that  ascent  520 

The  muse  has  gain  d,  review  the  paths  she  trod  ; 

Various,  extensive,  beaten  but  by  few ; 

And,  conscious  of  her  prudence  in  repose, 

Pause  ;  and  with  pleasure  meditate  an  end, 

Though  still  remote  ;  so  fruitful  is  my  theme.  525 

Through  many  a  field  of  moral  and  divine, 

The  muse  has  stray'd  ;  and  much  of  sorrow  seen 

In  human  ways  ;  and  much  of  false  and  vain  ; 

Which  none,  who  travel  this  bad  road,  can  miss. 

O'er  friends  deceased  full  heartily  she  wept ;  530 

Of  love  divine  the  wonders  she  display'd ; 

Proved  man  immortal ;  show'd  the  source  of  joy  ; 

The  grand  tribunal  raised  ;  assign' d  the  bounds 

Of  human  grief:  in  few,  to  close  the  whole, 

The  moral  muse  has  shadow'd  out  a  sketch,  535 

Though  not  in  form,  nor  with  a  Raphael-stroke, 

Of  most  our  weakness  needs  believe  or  do, 

In  this  our  land  of  travel,  and  of  hope, 

For  peace  on  earth,  or  prospect  of  the  skies. 

"What  then  remains  ? — Much  !  much  !  a  mighty  debt     540 
To  be  discharged ;  these  thoughts  !  O  Is  ight !  are  thine ; 
From  thee  they  came,  like  lovers'  secret  sighs, 
While  others  slept.     So  Cynthia,  (poets  feign,) 
In  shadows  veil'd,  soft  sliding  from  her  sphere, 
Her  shepherd  cheer'd  ;  of  her  enamour  d  less,  545 

Than  I  of  thee. — And  art  thou  still  unsung, 

hoi.  In  few  words. 

536.  Raphael-stroke :  Such  a  stroke  of  the  pencil  or  brush  as  Raphael,  the 
great  Italian  painter,  might  have  executed. 

543.  Cynthia:  A  name  for  Diana,  who  had  three  different  offices.  In  the 
heavens  she  is  called  Luna  (the  moon)  ;  on  the  earth,  Diana;  and  in  hell, 
Proserpine,  or  Hecate.  In  the  first  of  these  offices  our  author  alludes  to  her 
in  the  text.     Compare  notes  on  Night  III.,  near  the  beginning. 


MIGHT    IX.  *6V 

Beneath  whose  brow,  and  by  whose  aid,  I  sing  ? 

Immoral  silence  ! — Where  shall  I  begin  2 

"Where  end  ?     Or  how  steal  music  from  the  spheres, 

To  soothe  their  goddess  2  550 

AN    ADDRESS    TO    NIGHT. 

O  majestic  Night! 
Nature's  great  ancestor  !  Day's  elder  born  ! 
And  fated  to  survive  the  transient  sun  ! 
By  mortals  and  immortals  seen  with  awe ! 
A  starry  crown  thy  raven  brow  adorns,  555 

An  azure  zone,  thy  waist ;  clouds,  in  heav'n's  loom 
Wrought  through  varieties  of  shape  and  shade, 
In  ample  folds  of  drapery  divine, 
Thy  flowing  mantle  form ;  and,  heav'n  throughout, 
Voluminously  pour  thy  pompous  train.  580 

Thy  gloomy  grandeurs  (nature's  most  august, 
Inspiring  aspect !)  claim  a  grateful  verse  ; 
And,  like  a  sable  curtain  starr'd  with  gold, 
Drawn  o'er  my  labours  past,  shall  close  the  scene. 

THE    STUDY    OF    CREATION    IMPORTANT. 

And  what,  O  man  !  so  worthy  to  be  sung  ?  565 

What  more  prepares  us  for  the  songs  of  heav'n  ? 
Creation,  of  archangels  is  the  theme ! 
What,  to  be  sung,  so  needful  ?     What  so  well 
Celestial  joys  prepares  us  to  sustain  ? 

The  soul  of  man,  His  face  design'd  to  see  570 

Who  gave  these  wonders  to  be  seen  by  man, 
Has  here  a  previous  scene  of  objects  great, 
On  which  to  dwell ;  to  stretch  to  that  expanse 

549  Music  from  the  spheres :  An  allusion  to  the  ancient  notion  of  the 
heavenly  bodies  in  their  harmonious  and  beautiful  revolutions  yielding 
delightful  music,  appreciable  only  by  the  gods. 

552.  Day's  elder  born  :  Night  preceded  day — was  more  ancient-  Sec 
Gen.  i.  3 — 5.     The  paragraph  exhibits  a  brilliant  personification  of  night. 


440  THE    CONSOLATION. 

Of  thought,  to  rise  to  that  exalted  height 

Of  admiration,  to  contract  that  awe,  575 

And  give  her  whole  capacities  that  strength, 

Which  best  may  qualify  for  final  joy. 

The  more  our  spirits  are  enlarged  on  earth, 

The  deeper  draught  shall  they  receive  of  heav'n. 

Heav'n's  King!  whose  face  unveil'd  consummates  bliss;  580 
Redundant  bliss !  which  fills  that  mighty  void, 
The  whole  creation  leaves  in  human  hearts  ! 
Thou  who  didst  touch  the  lip  of  Jesse's  son, 
Rapt  in  sweet  contemplation  of  these  fires, 
And  set  his  harp  in  concert  with  the  spheres  !  585 

While  of  thy  works  material  the  supreme 
I  dare  attempt,  assist  my  daring  song: 
Loose  me  from  earth's  enclosure,  from  the  sun's 
Contracted  circle  set  my  heart  at  large ; 

Eliminate  my  spirit,  give  it  range  590 

Through  provinces  of  thought  yet  unexplored ; 
Teach  me,  by  this  stupendous  scaffolding, 
Creation's  golden  steps,  to  climb  to  Thee. 
Teach  me  with  art  great  nature  to  control, 
And  spread  a  lustre  o'er  the  shades  of  night.  595 

Feel  I  thy  kind  assent  ?  and  shall  the  sun 
Be  seen  at  midnight,  rising  in  my  song  ? 

THE    VASTNESS    OF    CREATION. 

Lorenzo !  come,  and  warm  thee  :  thou  whose  heart, 
Whose  little  heart  is  moor'd  within  a  nook 
Of  this  obscure  terrestrial,  anchor  weigh.  600 

575.  Contract:  Acquire. 

577-8.  The  sentiment  here  advanced  furnishes  a  grand  and  powerful 
motive  to  self-improvement  and  cultivation  while  on  earth. 

582.  Leaves  in  human  hearts :  Leaves  unfilled,  &c.  Not  even  the  vast 
creation  is  capable  of  satisfying  the  enlarged  desires  of  the  human  heart. 
Heavens  king  alone  can  satisfy  them,  and  leave  no  void. 

583.  Jesse's  son:  David.     Compare  1  Sam.  xvi.  18,24. 


NIGHT    IX.  441 

Another  ocean  calls,  a  nobler  port ; 

I  am  thy  pilot,  I  thy  prosp'roua  gale. 

Gainful  thy  voyage  through  yon  azure  main ; 

Main,  without  tempest,  pirate,  rock,  or  shore ; 

And  whence  thou  mayst  import  eternal  wealth  ;  605 

And  leave  to  beggar'd  minds  the  pearl  and  gold. 

Thy  travels  dost  thou  boast  o'er  foreign  realms  ? 

Thou  stranger  to  the  world  !  thy  tour  begin  ; 

Thy  tour  through  nature's  universal  orb. 

Nature  delineates  her  whole  chart  at  large,  G10 

On  soaring  souls,  that  sail  among  the  spheres ; 

And  man,  how  purblind,  if  unknown  the  whole  ! 

Who  circles  spacious  earth,  then  travels  here, 

Shall  own  he  never  was  from  home  before  ! 

Come,  my  Prometheus,  from  thy  pointed  rock  615 

Of  false  ambition,  if  unchain'd,  we'll  mount; 

We'll  innocently  steal  celestial  fire, 

And  kindle  our  devotion  at  the  stars ; 

A  theft,  that  shall  not  chain,  but  set  thee  free. 

Above  our  atmosphere's  intestine  wars,  C20 

Eain's  fountain-head,  the  magazine  of  hail ; 
Above  the  northern  nest  of  feather'd  snows, 
The  brew  of  thunders,  and  the  flaming  forge 
That  forms  the  crooked  lightning ;  'bove  the  caves 
Where  infant  tempests  wait  their  growing  wings,  625 

And  tune  their  tender  voices  to  that  roar, 
Which  soon,  perhaps,  shall  shake  a  guilty  world ; 
Above  misconstrued  omens  of  the  sky, 
Far-travell'd  comets'  calculated  blaze  ; 

Elance  thy  thought,  and  think  of  more  than  man.  630 

Thy  soul,  till  now,  contracted,  wither' d,  shrunk, 
Blighted  by  blasts  of  earth's  unwholesome  air, 
Will  blossom  here  ;  spread  all  her  faculties 

615.  My  Prometheus :  See  notes  on  Night  VIII.,  420. 

623.  The  brew  of  thunders:  The  region  where  ihunders  are  prepared 

630.  Elanre  thy  thought :  Dart,  or  hurl,  thy  thought. 


42  THE    CONSOLATION. 

To  these  bright  ardours  ;  ev'ry  pow'r  unfold, 

And  rise  into  sublimities  of  thought.  63^ 

Stars  teach,  as  we'll  as  shine.     At  nature's  birth, 

Thus  their  commission  ran — '  Be  kind  to  man.' 

Where  art  thou,  poor  benighted  traveller  ! 

The  stars  will  light  thee,  tho'  the  moon  should  fail. 

Where  art  thou,  more  benighted  !  more  astray  !  640 

In  ways  immoral  ?     The  stars  call  thee  back  ; 

And,  if  obey'd  their  counsel,  set  thee  right. 

LESSONS    OF    THE    STARS. 

This  prospect  vast,  what  is  it  ? — Weigh'd  aright, 
'Tis  nature's  system  of  divinity, 

And  ev'ry  student  of  the  night  inspires.  645 

'Tis  elder  Scripture,  writ  by  God's  own  hand  : 
Scripture  authentic  !  uncorrupt  by  man. 
Lorenzo  !  with  my  radius  (the  rich  gift 
Of  thought  nocturnal !)  I'll  point  out  to  thee 
Its  various  lessons  ;  some  that  may  surprise  650 

An  un-adept  in  mysteries  of  night ; 
Little,  perhaps,  expected  in  her  school, 
Nor  thought  to  grow  on  planet,  or  on  star. 
Bulls,  lions,  scorpions,  monsters,  here  we  feign ; 
Ourselves  more  monstrous,  not  to  see  what  here  655 

Exists  indeed  ; — a  lecture  to  mankind. 

What  read  we  here  ? — Th'  existence  of  a  God  ? 
Yes  ;  and  of  other  beings,  man  above  ; 
Natives  of  ether !  sons  of  higher  climes  ! 
And,  what  may  move  Lorenzo's  wonder  more,  660 

Eternity  is  written  in  the  skies. 
And  whose  eternity  ?     Lorenzo,  thine ; 
Mankind's  eternity.     Nor  faith  alone  ; 

634.  Jlrdours :  Luminaries. 

648-  Radius  :  Wand,  or  rod. 

654.    We  feign  :  The  author  refers  to  the  constellations  marked  out  undei 
nese  various  figures,  on  the  artificial  globe. 


NIGHT    IX.  443 

Virtue  grows  here  :  here  springs  the  sov'reign  cure 

Of  almost  ev'ry  vice  ;  but  chiefly  thine;  665 

Wrath,  pride,  ambition,  and  impure  desire. 

Lorenzo  !  thou  canst  wake  at  midnight  too, 
Though  not  on  morals  bent :  ambition,  pleasure  ! 
Those  tyrants  I  for  thee  so  lately  fought, 
Afford  their  harass'd  slaves  but  slender  rest.  670 

Thou,  to  whom  midnight  is  immoral  noon, 
And  the  sun's  noon-tide  blaze,  prime  dawn  of  day ; 
Not  by  thy  climate,  but  capricious  crime, 
Commencing  one  of  our  antip 

In  thy  nocturnal  rove,  one  moment  halt,  6 To 

'Twixt  stage  and  stage,  of  riot  and  cabal ; 
And  lift  thine  eye  (if  bold  an  eye  to  lift, 
If  bold  to  meet  the  face  of  injured  Heav'n) 
To  yonder  stars  :  for  other  ends  they  shine, 
Than  to  light  travellers  from  shame  to  shame,  680 

And  thus,  be  made  accomplices  in  guilt. 

"Why  from  yon  arch,  that  infinite  of  space, 
With  infinite  of  lucid  orbs  replete, 
Which  set  the  living  firmament  on  fire, 

At  the  first  glance,  in  such  an  overwhelm  685 

Of  wonderful,  on  man's  astonish'd  sight, 
Eushes  Omnipotence  \ — To  curb  our  pride  ; 
Our  reason  rouse,  and  lead  it  to  that  Pov.'r, 
Whose  love  lets  down  these  silver  chains  of  light, 
To  draw  up  man's  ambition  to  Himself.  690 

And  bind  our  chaste  affections  to  his  throne. 
Thus  the  three  virtues,  least  alive  on  earth, 
And  welcomed  on  heav'n's  coast  with  most  applause 
An  humble,  pure,  and  heav'nTy-mindecl  heart, 
Are  here  inspired. — And  canst  thou  gaze  too  long?  695 

669.   So  lately  fuuqkt :  In  Night  Till. 

671— i.  Lorenzo  passed  his  nights  in  dissipation,  and  his  days  in  bed.  thus 
conforming  his  periods  of  action  and  repose  not  to  the  habits  of  his  neigh- 
bours, but  of  his  antipodes,  or  people  living  on  the  opposite  side  of  the 
slobe. 


444  THE    CONSOLATION. 

Nor  stands  thy  wrath  deprived  of  its  reproof, 
Or  unupbraided  by  this  radiant  choir. 
The  planets  of  each  system  represent 
Kind  neighbours  :  mutual  amity  prevails  ; 
Sweet  interchange  of  rays,  received,  return'd ;  700 

Enlight'ning,  and  enlighten'd  !     All,  at  once, 
Attracting,  and  attracted  !     Patriot-like, 
None  sins  against  the  welfare  of  the  whole ; 
But  their  reciprocal,  unselfish  aid, 

Affords  an  emblem  of  millennial  love.  705 

Nothing  in  nature,  much  less  conscious  being, 
Was  e'er  created  solely  for  itself: 
Thus  man  ms  sov'reign  duty  learns  in  this 
Material  picture  of  benevolence. 

And  know,  of  all  our  supercilious  race,  710 

Thou  most  inflammable  !  thou  wasp  of  men  ! 
Man's  angry  heart,  inspected,  would  be  found 
As  rightly  set,  as  are  the  starry  spheres  ; 
'Tis  nature's  structure,  broke  by  stubborn  will, 
Breeds  all  that  uncelestial  discord  there.  715 

"Wilt  thou  not  feel  the  bias  nature  gave  ? 
Canst  thou  descend  from  converse  with  the  skies, 
And  seize  thy  brother's  throat  ? — For  what  ? — a  clod  ? 
An  inch  of  earth  ?     The  planets  cry,  "  Forbear :" 
They  chase  our  double  darkness,  nature's  gloom  ;  720 

And  (kinder  still !)  our  intellectual  night. 

And  see,  Day's  amiable  sister  sends 
Her  invitation,  in  the  softest  rays 
Of  mitigated  lustre  ;  courts  thy  sight, 

Which  suffers  from  her  tyrant-brother's  blaze.  725 

Night  grants  thee  the  full  freedom  of  the  skies, 

698-705.  A  most  beautiful,  ingenious,  and  useful  thought  is  conveyed  ih 
these  lines. 

722.  Sister :  The  moon. 

725.  Tyrant-brother :  The  sun.  Consult  the  notes  at  the  commencement 
of  Night  III. 


NIGHT    IX. 


44i 


Nor  rudely  reprimands  thy  lifted  eye ; 

With  gain,  and  joy,  she  bribes  thee  to  be  wise. 

Night  opes  the  noblest  scenes,  and  sheds  an  awe, 

"Which  gives  those  venerable  scenes  full  weight,  730 

And  deep  reception,  in  th'  entender'd  heart : 

While  light  peeps  through  the  darkness,  like  a  spy  ; 

And  darkness  shows  its  grandeur  by  the  light. 

Nor  is  the  profit  greater  than  the  joy, 

If  human  hearts  at  glorious  objects  glow,  735 

And  admiration  can  inspire  delight. 

FEEDINGS    ARISING    UPON    A    VIEW    OF    THE    NOCTURNAL    HEAVENS. 

What  speak  I  more,  than  I,  this  moment  feel  ? 
W'ith  pleasing  stupor  first  the  soul  is  struck, 
(Stupor  ordain'd  to  make  her  truly  wise !) 
Then  into  transport  starting  from  her  trance,  740 

With  love,  and  admiration,  how  she  glows ! 
This  gorgeous  apparatus  !  this  display ! 
This  ostentation  of  creative  pow'r ! 
This  theatre  ! — what  eye  can  take  it  in  ? 

By  what  divine  enchantment  was  it  rais'd,  745 

For  minds  of  the  first  magnitude  to  launch 
In  endless  speculation,  and  adore  ? 
One  sun  by  day,  by  night  ten  thousand  shine, 
And  light  us  deep  into  the  Deity  : 

How  boundless  in  magnificence  and  might !  750 

0  what  a  confluence  of  ethereal  fires, 
From  urns  unnumber'd,  down  the  steep  of  heav'n, 
Streams  to  a  point,  and  centres  in  my  sight ! 
Nor  tarries  there  ;  I  feel  it  at  my  heart. 

My  heart,  at  once,  it  humbles  and  exalts;  755 

Lays  it  in  dust,  and  calls  it  to  the  skies. 
WTho  sees  it  unexalted,  or  unawed  ? 
Wlio  sees  it,  and  can  stop  at  what  is  seen  ? 
Material  offspring  of  Omnipotence  ! 
Inanimate,  all-animating  birth  !  700 


446  THE    CONSOLATION. 

Work  worthy  Ilira  who  made  it !  worthy  praise  ! 

All  praise  !  praise  more  than  human  !  nor  denied 

Thy  praise  divine ! — But  tho'  man,  drovvn'd  in  sleep, 

"Withholds  his  homage,  not  alone  I  wake : 

Bright  legions  swarm  unseen,  and  sing,  unheard  705 

By  mortal  ear,  the  glorious  Architect, 

In  this  his  universal  temple,  hung 

"With  lustres,  with  innumerable  lights, 

That  shed  religion  on  the  soul ;  at  once 

The  temple  and  the  preacher !     O  how  loud  770 

It  calls  devotion  !  genuine  growth  of  night ! 

DEVOTION,    THE    DAUGHTER    OF    ASTRONOMY. 

Devotion  !  daughter  of  astronomy  ! 
An  undevout  astronomer  is  mad. 
True  ;  all  things  speak  a  God :  but  in  the  small, 
Men  trace  out  Him  ;  in  great,  He  seizes  man;  775 

Seizes,  and  elevates,  and  wraps,  and  fills 
With  new  inquiries,  'mid  associates  new. 
Tell  me,  ye  stars !  ye  planets  !  tell  me,  all 
Ye  starr'd,  and  planeted,  inhabitants  ?     What  is  it  ? 
What  are  these  sons  of  wonder  ?     Say,  proud  arch  !  780 

(Within  whose  azure  palaces  they  dwell) 
Built  with  divine  ambition  !  in  disdain 
Of  limit  built !  built  in  the  taste  of  heav'n  ! 
Vast  concave !  ample  dome  !  wast  thou  design'd 
A  meet  apartment  for  the  Deity  ? —  785 

Not  so  ;  that  thought  alone  thy  state  impairs, 
Thy  lofty  sinks,  and  shallows  thy  profound, 
And  straitens  thy  diffusive ;  dwarfs  the  whole, 
And  makes  an  universe  an  orrery. 

787.  Shallows :  Renders  shallow. 

788.  Straitens:  Makes  narrow. 

789.  Orrery :  A  mechanical  contrivance  for  representing,  on  a  small  scale, 
the  relative  magnitudes,  distances,  and  velocities  of  the  solar  system.     I' 


NIGHT    IX.  447 

But  when  I  drop  mine  eve,  and  look  on  man, 

Thy  rig          5  _Tandeur  is  restored. 

O  nature  !  anding  round, 

hen  whol  raag                        .  are  fired, 
TL 
Th 

SL        .  -  : 

And  leaves  us  womb, 

-inflamed, 

Thy  lum  me  - '.  •'.■ 

a    . 
Matter  big  _  such  surprising  pomp, 

of  gods, 
.  :  :-„Sr  : 

B  ]  G 
And  hah*  absolved  idolatry  fr 

In  those,  who  put  forth  all  they  had  of  man 

Unl  :>r  mounted  hi  _ 

But,  _.  :  and  thought  810 

Wl  .  must  be  their  adored. 

:  b   a::;    gkasbkub    .  i    ran   :    . 

could  no  higher  m : 
And  are  there  hom 

Unseen  and  mi      -      I  :^e  • 

And  if  incomprehe:  515 

V 

i 

red. 
803.  Tt.e  style:  I 

Turned  it  into  virtue :  This  is  an  unscriptural  statement  as  will  be 
seen  by  referring  to  the  : 

-  :>n  for  it. 

what  teas  Liar  highest  object  of  contenv    i 
waist  be  their  adored  object,  or 


448  THE    CONSOLATION. 

Why  has  the  mighty  Builder  thrown  aside 

All  measure  in  his  work  ;  stretch'd  out  his  line 

So  far,  and  spread  amazement  o'er  the  whole  ? 

Then  (as  he  took  delight  in  wide  extremes,)  820 

Deep  in  the  bosom  of  his  universe, 

Dropt  down  that  reas'ning  mite,  that  insect,  man, 

To  crawl,  and  gaze,  and  wonder  at  the  scene  ? — 

That  man  might  ne'er  presume  to  plead  amazement 

For  disbelief  of  wonders  in  Himself.  825 

Shall  God  be  less  miraculous  than  what 

His  hand  has  form'd  ?     Shall  mysteries  descend 

From  unmysferious  ?  things  more  elevate, 

Be  more  familiar  ?  uncreated  lie 

More  obvious  than  created,  to  the  grasp  830 

Of  human  thought  ?     The  more  of  wonderful 

Is  heard  in  Him,  the  more  we  should  assent. 

Could  we  conceive  him,  God  he  could  not  be  ; 

Or  he  not  God,  or  we  could  not  be  men. 

A  God  alone  can  comprehend  a  God :  835 

Man's  distance  how  immense !     On  such  a  theme, 

Know  this,  Lorenzo !  (seem  it  ne'er  so  strange,) 

Nothing  can  satisfy,  but  what  confounds  ; 

Nothing,  but  what  astonishes,  is  true. 

The  scene  thou  seest,  attests  the  truth  I  sing  :  840 

And  ev'ry  star  sheds  light  upon  thy  creed. 

These  stars,  this  furniture,  this  cost  of  heav'n, 

If  but  reported,  thou  hadst  ne'er  believed ; 

But  thine  eye  tells  thee,  the  romance  is  true. 

The  grand  of  nature  is  th'  Almighty's  oath,  845 

In  reason's  court,  to  silence  unbelief. 

How  ray  mind,  op'ning  at  this  scene,  imbibes 
The  moral  emanations  of  the  skies, 
While  nought,  perhaps,  Lorenzo  less  admires  ! 
Has  the  Great  Sov'reign  sent  ten  thousand  worlds  850 

To  tell  us,  he  resides  above  them  all, 

&34.  Or  he :  Either  he 


NIGHT    IX.  449 

In  glory's  unapproachable  recess  ? 

And  dare  earth's  bold  inhabitants  deny 

The  sumptuous,  the  magnific  embassy 

A  moment's  audience  ?     Turn  we,  nor  will  hear  855 

From  whom  they  come,  or  what  they  would  impart 

For  man's  emolument ;  sole  cause  that  stoops 

Their  grandeur  to  man's  eye  ?     Lorenzo  !  rouse ; 

Let  thought,  awaken'd,  take  the  lightnings  wing, 

And  glance  from  east  to  west,  from  pole  to  pole.  8G0 

Who  sees,  but  is  coufounded,  or  convinced  ? 

Renounces  reason,  or  a  God  adores  ? 

Mankind  was  sent  into  the  world  to  see  : 

Sight  gives  the  science  needful  to  their  peace ; 

That  obvious  science  asks  small  learning's  aid.  865 

Wouldst  thou  on  metaphysic  pinions  soar  ? 

Or  wound  thy  patience  amid  logic  thorns  ? 

Or  travel  history's  enormous  round  ? 

Nature  no  such  hard  task  enjoins  :  she  gave 

A  make  to  man  directive  of  his  thought ;  870 

A  make  set  upright,  pointing  to  the  stars, 

As  who  should  say,  '  Piead  thy  chief  lesson  there.' 

Too  late  to  read  this  manuscript  of  heav'n, 

When,  like  a  parchment  scroll,  shrunk  up  by  flames, 

It  folds  Lorenzo's  lesson  from  his  sight.  8*75 

THE    STARS    TELL    OF    ANGELIC    BEINGS. 

Lessons  how  various  !     Not  the  God  alone ; 
I  see  his  ministers  ;  I  see,  diffused 
In  radiatit  orders,  essences  sublime, 
Of  various  offices,  of  various  plume, 

In  heav'nly  liveries,  distinctly  clad,  880 

Azure,  green,  purple,  pearl,  or  downy  gold, 

870-1.  A  make  to  man,  &c. :  Ovid   has  beautifully  expressed  the  same 
thought : 

Pronaqne  cum  ?peotont  animalia  cetera  terram  ; 

Os  homini  sublime  dedit :  coelnmque  tueri 

Jnsait,  et  ercctos  ad  sidera  tollere  vultu*. — Met  /.,  S4,  8ti. 


450  TUB    CONSOLATION. 

Or  all  commix'd ;  they  stand,  with  wings  outspread, 

List'ning  to  catch  the  Master's  least  command, 

And  fly  through  nature,  ere  the  moment  ends ; 

Numbers  innumerable  ! — Well  conceived  88~> 

By  Pagan,  and  by  Christian !  o'er  each  sphere 

Presides  an  angel,  to  direct  its  course, 

And  feed,  or  fan,  its  flames  ;  or  to  discharge 

Other  high  trusts  unknown.     For  who  can  see 

Such  pomp  of  matter,  and  imagine,  mind,  890 

For  which  alone  inanimate  was  made, 

More  sparingly  dispensed  ?     That  nobler  son, 

Far  liker  the  great  Sire  !     'Tis  thus  the  skies 

Inform  us  of  superiors  numberless, 

As  much,  in  excellence,  above  mankind,  895 

As  above  earth,  in  magnitude,  the  spheres. 

These,  as  a  cloud  of  witnesses,  hang  o'er  us ; 

In  a  throng'd  theatre  are  all  our  deeds  : 

Perhaps  a  thousand  demigods  descend 

On  ev'ry  beam  we  see,  to  walk  with  men.  900 

Awful  reflection  !  strong  restraint  from  ill ! 

NATURE    CONTRASTED    WITH    ART. 

Yet,  here,  our  virtue  finds  still  stronger  aid 
From  these  ethereal  glories  sense  surveys. 
Something  like  magic  strikes  from  this  blue  vault. 
With  just  attention  is  it  view'd  ?     We  feel  906 

A  sudden  succour,  unimplored,  unthought ; 
Nature  herself  does  half  the  work  of  man. 
Seas,  rivers,  mountains,  forests,  deserts,  rocks, 

892.  That  nobler  son:  Mind,  nobler  than  matter.  Far  liker  the  Gh-eat 
Sire:  Far  more  like  God  than  matter  is,  in  respect  to  its  wide  dispersion,  or 
extensive  diffusion. 

899-901.  A  singular  fancy  is  here  introduced,  but  if  consideied  true  it 
would  be  adapted,  as  the  author  intimates,  powerfully  to  restrain  from 
evil. 


NIGHT    IX.  451 

The  promontory's  height,  the  depth  profound 

Of  subterranean,  excavated  grots,  910 

Black-brow'd,  and  vaulted  high,  and  yawning  wide     - 

From  nature's  structure,  or  the  scoop  of  time  ; 

If  ample  of  dimension,  vast  of  si 

E'en  these  an  aggrandizing  impulse  give  ; 

Of  solemn  thought  enthusiastic  heights  'J  1 5 

E'en  these  infuse. — But  what  of  vast  in  these  ? 

Nothing  ; — or  we  must  own  the  skies  forgot. 

Much  less  in  art. — Vain  Art !  thou  pigmy  pow'r  i 

How  dost  thou  swell  and  strut,  with  human  pride, 

To  show  thy  littleness !     What  childish  toys,  920 

Thy  wat'ry  columns  squirted  to  the  clouds  ! 

Thy  basin'd  rivers,  and  imprison'd  seas  ! 

Thy  mountains  moulded  into  forms  of  men  ! 

Thy  hundred-gated  capitals  !  or  those 

Where  three  days'  travel  left  us  much  to  ride ;  925 

Gazing  on  miracles  by  mortals  wrought, 

923.  Moulded  into  forms  of  men  :  Such  as  Colossus  at  Rhodes.  It  was  of 
hollow  brass,  however,  and  its  larger  cavities  rilled  with  stone.  It  was  one 
hundred  and  five  feet  high,  and  its  fingers  were  larger  than  entire  statues 
commonly  are.  Our  author  refers,  however,  to  marble  statues  of  distin- 
guished men. 

924.  Hundred- gated  capitals :  Such  as  Thebes,  in  Egypt,  according  to  the 
description  of  it  given  by  Homer,  which  is  probably  much  exaggerated ;  or 
he  speaks  in  round  numbers,  and  intends  merely  to  convey  the  idea  that  it 
was  an  uncommonly  large  city,  and  possessed  of  many  gates.  Its  architec- 
tural remains,  both  as  to  number  and  magnitude,  furnish  evidence,  however, 
of  an  almost  inconceivable  magnificence  and  grandeur  at  some  former 
periods. 

The  city  of  Babylon  was  laid  out  in  the  form  of  a  square,  having  twenty- 
five  gates  on  each  side,  made  of  solid  brass,  which  would  make  this  a  hun* 
drcd-gated  capital:  From  all  these  gates  proceeded  streets  fifteen  miles  in 
length,  and  crossing  each  other  at  right  angles. 

925.  The  walls  of  Babylon  are  computed  at  sixty  miles  in  circumference, 
which  covered  an  area  of  about  eight  times  that  of  London;  yet.  perhapa 
two  thirds  of  this  immense  space  was  occupied  with  gardens,  reservoirs  of 
water,  and  large  vacant  places  between  them,  as  is  usual  in  oriental  cities 


452  THE    CONSOLATION. 

Arches  triumphal,  theatres  immense, 
Or  nodding  gardens  pendent  in  mid-air  ! 

927.  In  a  former  note  triumphal  arches  are  described  (Night  VI.,  782) . 
As  an  example  of  theatres  immense,  may  be  adduced  the  Colisaeum  at  Rome, 
begun  by  Vespasian,  and  completed  by  his  son  Titus.  It  covers  five  acres 
and  a  quarter  of  ground  ;  its  walls  are  one  hundred  and  sixty-six  feet  high; 
its  seats  would  accommodate  eighty  thousand  spectators,  and  twenty  thou- 
sand more  had  room  to  stand.  It  enclosed  a  vast  arena,  where  thousands 
of  gladiators  and  wild  beasts  contended  at  once, 

Butcher'd  to  make  a  Eoman  holiday. 
This  magnificent  ruin  has  suffered  much  from  earthquakes,  and  the  de- 
stroying influence  of  time ;  and  to  the  disgrace  of  the  Papal  government 
(says  Brande),  it  was  allowed  to  be  used,  in  comparatively  recent  times,  as 
a  convenient  quarry,  whence  the  materials  of  many  modern  edifices  have 
been  derived.     Byron  has  immortalized  these  ruins  in  his  Childe  Harold : 

But  here,  where  murder  breath'd  her  bloody  steam : 

And  here,  where  buzzing  nations  chok'd  the  ways, 

And  roar'd  or  murmur'd  like  a  mountain  stream 

Dashing  or  winding  as  its  torrent  strays; 

Here,  where  the  Eoman  millions'  blame  or  praise 

Was  death  or  life,  the  playthings  of  a  crowd, 

My  voice  sounds  much,  and  fall  the  stars  faint  rays 

On  the  arena  void ;  seats  crush'd,  walls  bow'd ; 

And  galleries,  where  my  steps  seem  echoes  strangely  loud. 

A  ruin,  yet  what  a  ruin  !  from  its  mas3 
Walls,  palaces,  half-cities,  have  been  rear'd ; 
Yet  oft  the  enormous  skeleton  ye  pass 
And  marvel  where  the  spoil  could  have  appear'd. 

928.  Nodding  gardens,  &c. :  The  most  celebrated  are  those  of  ancient 
Babylon.  The  new  palace  built  by  Nebuchadnezzar  was  splendidly  deco- 
rated with  statues  of  men  ar.d  animals,  with  vessels  of  gold  and  silver,  and 
furnished  with  luxuries  of  all  kinds  brought  thither  from  conquests  in 
Egypt,  Palestine,  and  Tyre.  Its  greatest  boast  were  the  hanging  gardens, 
which  acquired,  even  from  Grecian  writers,  the  appellation  of  one  of  the 
wonders  of  the  world.  They  are  attributed  to  the  gallantry  of  Nebuchad- 
nezzar, who  constructed  them  in  compliance  with  a  wish  of  his  queen 
Amytis  to  possess  elevated  groves,  such  as  she  had  enjoyed  on  the  hills 
around  her  native  Ecbatana.  Babylon  was  all  flat,  and  to  accomplish  so 
extravagant  a  desire,  an  artificial  mountain  was  reared,  four  hundred  feet  on 
each  side,  while  terraces,  resting  on  ranges  of  piers  one  above  another,  rose 
to  a  height  that  overtopped  the  walls  of  the  city — that  is.  above  three  hun- 
dred feet  in  elevation.  The  ascent  from  terrace  to  terrace  was  made  by 
corresponding  flights  of  steps.  To  admit  the  roots  of  large  trees,  prodigious 
hollow  piers'were  built,  and  filled  with  mould.     From  the  Euphrates,  which 


NIGHT    IX.  463 

Or  temples  proud  to  meet  their  gods  half-way ! 

Yet  these  affect  us  in  no  common  kind,  930 

What  then  the  force  of  such  superior  scenes  ? 

Enter  a  temple  ;  it  will  strike  an  awe  : 

What  awe  from  this  the  Deity  has  built ! 

A  good  man  seen,  though  silent,  counsel  gives  ; 

The  touch'd  spectator  wishes  to  be  wise  :  93f> 

In  a  bright  mirror  his  own  hands  have  made, 

Here  we  see  something  like  the  face  of  God. 

Seems  it  not  then  enough,  to  say,  Lorenzo, 

To  man  abandon'd,  '  Hast  thou  seen  the  sides  ?' 

THE    ABUSE    OF    THE    STARRY    SKY. 

And  yet,  so  thwarted  nature's  kind  design  940 

By  daring  man,  he  makes  her  sacred  awe 
(That  guard  from  ill)  his  shelter,  his  temptation 
To  more  than  common  guilt,  and  quite  inverts 
Celestial  art's  intent.     The  trembling  stars 
See  crimes  gigantic,  stalking  through  the  gloom,  945 

With  front  erect,  that  hide  their  head  by  day, 
And  making  night  still  darker  by  their  deeds. 

flowed  close  to  the  foundation,  water  was  raised  by  machinery.  To  those 
who  looked  upon  these  terraces  from  a  distance,  they  had  the  appearance  of 
woods  overhanging  mountains.  Such  was  the  completion  of  Nebuchad- 
nezzar's work,  when  he  found  himself  at  rest  in  his  house,  and  when  he 
said  :  "  Is  not  this  great  Babylon  that  I  have  built  for  the  honour  of  the 
kingdom,  by  the  might  of  my  power,  and  the  honour  of  my  majesty" 
(Dan.  iv) .  No  where  could  the  king  have  taken  so  comprehensive  a  view 
of  the  city  he  had  so  magnificently  constructed  and  adorned,  as  when  walk- 
ing on  the  highest  terrace  of  the  gardens  of  his  palace. — Kind's  Cyc. 

929.  Or  temples.  &c. :  As  an  illustration  of  this  line,  we  may  refer  to  the 
Pantheon  at  Rome,  built  about  the  commencement  of  the  Christian  era.  It 
was  the  largest  structure  of  ancient  times,  being  of  a  round  form,  one  hun- 
dred and  eighty-eight  feet  in  diameter,  and  one  hundred  and  forty-eight  feet 
high.     It  contained  colossal  statues  of  several  of  the  Pagan  gods. 

St.  Peter's  church,  at  Rome,  has  an  altitude  of  four  hundred  and  thirty- 
six  feet,  and  St.  Paul's  of  London,  an  altitude  of  three  hundred  and  forty, 
four  feet. 


454  THE    CONSOLATION'. 

Slumb'ring  in  covert,  till  the  shades  descend, 

Rapine  and  murder,  link'd,  now  prowl  for  prey. 

The  miser  earths  his  treasures ;  and  the  thief,  950 

Watching  the  mole,  half  beggars  him  ere  morn. 

Now  plots,  and  foul  conspiracies,  awake ; 

And,  muffling  up  their  horrors  from  the  moon, 

Havock  and  devastation  they  prepare, 

And  kingdoms  tott'ring  in  the  field  of  blood.  955 

Now  sons  of  riot  in  mid  revel  rage. 

What  shall  I  do  ?  suppress  it  ?  or  proclaim  ? — 

Why  sleeps  the  thunder  ?     Now,  Lorenzo  !  now, 

His  best  friend's  couch  the  rank  adulterer 

Ascends  secure ;  and  laughs  at  gods  and  men.  960 

Prepost'rous  madmen,  void  of  fear  or  shame, 

Lay  their  crimes  bare  to  these  chaste  eyes  of  heav'n ; 

Yet  shrink  and  shudder  at  a  mortal's  sight. 

Were  moon  and  stars  for  villains  only  made ; 

To  guide,  yet  screen  them,  with  tenebrious  light  ?  965 

No ;  they  were  made  to  fashion  the  sublime 

Of  human  hearts,  and  wiser  make  the  wise. 

THE    ANCIENT    SAGES. 

Those  ends  were  answer'd  once  ;  when  mortals  lived 
Of  stronger  wing,  of  aquiline  ascent 

In  theory  sublime.     O  how  unlike  970 

Those  vermin  of  the  night,  this  moment  sung, 
Who  crawl  on  earth,  and  on  her  venom  feed  ! 
Those  ancient  sages,  human  stars  !  They  met 
Their  brothers  of  the  skies,  at  midnight  hour; 
Their  counsel  ask'd  ;  and,  what  they  ask'd,  obey'd.  975 

950.  Earths  his  treasures :  Hides  them  under  ground. 

951.  The  mole  :  The  miser,  compared  figuratively  to  the  mole — an  animal 
which  bores  holes  in  the  earth. 

965.   Tenebrious:  Dusky. 

969.   Of  aquiline  ascent :  Of  ascent  like  an  eagle. 


NIGHT    IX.  455 

The  Stagirite,  and  Plato,  he  who  drank 

The  poison'd  bowl,  and  he  of  Tusculum, 

With  him  of  Corduba  (immort.il  names  !) 

In  these  unbounded  and  Elysian  walks, 

An  area  fit  for  gods,  and  godlike  men,  980 

They  took  their  nightly  round,  thro'  radiant  paths 


976.  The  Stagirite :  Aristotle,  so  called  from  Stagyra,  where  he  was  bom, 
B.  C.  3S4.  He  was  the  founder  of  the  Peripatetic  sect  of  philosophers,  so 
named,  either  from  his  walking  about  when  he  instructed  his  disciples,  or 
from  the  public  walk  in  the  Lyceum,  which  he  and  his  disciples  were  in 
the  habit  of  frequenting.  He  was  the  teacher  of  Alexander,  usually  sur- 
named  the  Great. 

Plato,  an  Athenian  philosopher,  was  born  at  jEgina,  B.  C.  429.  He  was 
for  a  few  years  a  pupil  of  Socrates,  who  drank  the  poison'd  bowl,  to  which  he 
was  sentenced  on  insufficient  grounds,  in  his  seventieth  year,  having  been 
born  near  Athens,  B.  C.  469. 

Plato  was  the  head  of  the  Academic  sect,  so  called  from  the  academy,  or 
public  grove,  in  the  suburbs  of  Athens,  where  he  taught  for  many  years. 
The  method  of  instruction  originated,  or,  at  least,  pursued,  by  Socrates,  de- 
serves mention.  His  custom  was,  to  propose  a  series  of  questions  to  those 
with  whom  he  conversed,  in  order  to  lead  them  to  some  unforeseen  conclu- 
sion. He  first  gained  assent  to  some  obvious  truths,  and  then  obliged  the 
admission  of  others  related  to  them,  or  like  them.  Not  employing  direct 
aigument  or  persuasion,  he  led  the  person  he  was  instructing  to  deduce  the 
truths  of  which  he  desired  to  convince  him,  as  a  necessary  consequence 
from  his  own  concessions.  He  commonly  concealed  his  design  until  the  in- 
structed had  advanced  too  far  to  recede. 

977.  He  of  Tusculum :  Cicero,  the  great  Roman  orator,  whose  favourite 
residence  was  at  this  place,  about  twelve  miles  from  Rome,  remarkable  for 
the  beauty  of  its  situation,  and  much  resorted  to  in  the  summer  season  by 
the  wealthy  citizens  of  Rome.  The  scene  of  the  "Tusculan  Disputations" 
was  laid  here.  Cicero  embraced  and  defended,  in  the  form  of  dialogue,  the 
doctrines  of  the  Platonic  philosophy.     His  birth  occurred  B.  C.  107. 

978.  Him  of  Corduba :  Corduba,  in  Spain,  was  the  birthplace  of  both  the 
Senecas,  and  of  Lucan  the  poet.  The  younger  Seneca,  a  Roman  orator,  and 
at  one  time  the  tutor  of  the  emperor  Nero,  is  probably  here  referred  to.  He 
put  himself  to  death  at  the  command  of  his  imperial  and  cruel  master.  He 
was  more  severe,  ascetic,  and  self-denying  in  his  pithy  and  pointed  writings 
as  a  philosopher,  than  in  his  practice.  He  was  theoretically,  but  not  prac- 
tically, a  high  stoic,  and  has  delivered  many  valuable  sentiments,  that  have 
been  much  admired. 


■156  THE    CONSOLATION. 

By  seraphs  trod ;  instructed,  chiefly,  thus, 
To  tread  in  their  bright  footsteps  here  below ; 
To  walk  in  worth  still  brighter  than  the  skies. 
There  they  contracted  their  contempt  of  earth;  OS/i 

Of  hopes  eternal  kindled,  there,  the  fire ; 
There,  as  in  near  approach,  they  glow'd,  and  grew 
(Great  visitants  !)  more  intimate  with  God, 
More  worth  to  men,  more  joyous  to  themselves. 
Through  various  virtues,  they,  with  ardour,  ran  0i>0 

The  zodiac  of  their  learn'd,  illustrious  lives. 
In  Christian  hearts,  O  for  a  pagan  zeal ! 
A  needful,  but  opprobrious  pray'r !     As  much. 
Our  ardour  less,  as  greater  is  our  light. 

How  monstrous  this  in  morals  !     Scarce  more  strange         995 
Would  this  phenomenon  in  our  nature  strike, 
A  sun  that  froze  us,  or  a  star  that  warm'd. 

THE    DOCTRINES    OF    THE    ANCIENT    PHILOSOPHERS. 

What  taught  these  heroes  of  the  moral  world  ? 
To  these  thou  giv'st  thy  praise,  give  credit  too. 
These  doctors  ne'er  were  pension'd  to  deceive  thee  ;  1000 

And  Pagan  tutors  are  thy  taste. — They  taught, 
That,  narrow  views  betray  to  misery : 
That,  wise  it  is  to  comprehend  the  whole  : 
That,  virtue  rose  from  nature ;  ponder'd  well, 
The  single  base  of  virtue  built  to  heav'n  :  1  005 

That,  God  and  nature  our  attention  claim  : 
That,  nature  is  the  glass  reflecting  God, 
As,  by  the  sea,  reflected  is  the  sun, 
Too  glorious  to  be  gazed  on  in  his  sphere : 

689.  More  worth  to  men:  More  valuable,  or  useful,  to  men. 

991.  The  zodiac  :  That  belt  of  the  heavens  in  which  the  sun  and  the 
planets,  the  brightest  orbs  of  the  sky,  make  their  revolutions,  to  which 
answer  the  illustrious  sages  just  alluded  to. 

993.  Opprobrious  pray'r :  One  that  involves  reproach  to  Christians,  or 
implies  that  they  are  greatly  deficient. 


NIGHT    IX.  457 

That,  mind  immortal  loves  immortal  aims  :  1010 

That,  boundless  mind  affects  a  boundless  space  : 

That,  vast  surveys,  and  the  sublime  of  things, 

The  soul  assimilate,  and  make  her  great : 

That,  therefore,  heavn  her  glories,  as  a  fund 

Of  inspiration,  thus  spreads  out  to  man.  1015 

Such  are  their  doctrines  ;  such  the  night  inspired. 

THE    SOUL,    MADE    TO    WALK    THE    SKIES. 

And  what  more  true  ?     What  truth  of  greater  weight  ? 
The  soul  of  man  was  made  to  walk  the  skies ; 
Delightful  outlet  of  her  prison  here  ! 

There,  disincumber'd  from  her  chains,  the  ties  1020 

Of  toys  terrestrial,  she  can  rove  at  large  ; 
There,  freely  can  respire,  dilate,  extend, 
In  full  proportion  let  loose  all  her  pow'rs  ; 
And,  undeluded,  grasp  at  something  great. 
Nor,  as  a  stranger,  does  she  wander  there;  1025 

But,  wonderful  herself,  through  wonder  strays  ; 
Contemplating  their  grandeur,  finds  her  own  ; 
Dives  deep  in  their  economy  divine, 
Sits  high  in  judgment  on  their  various  laws, 
And,  like  a  master,  judges  not  amiss.  1030 

Hence  greatly  pleased,  and  justly  proud,  the  soul 
Grows  conscious  of  her  birth  celestial ;  breathes 
More  life,  more  vigour,  in  her  native  air  ; 
And  feels  herself  at  home  among  the  stars  ; 
And,  feeling,  emulates  her  country's  praise.  1035 

What  call  we,  then,  the  firmament,  Lorenzo  ? — 
As  earth  the  body,  since  the  skies  sustain 
The  soul  with  food  that  gives  immortal  life, 
Call  it,  The  noble  pasture  of  the  mind, 
Which  there  expatiates,  strengthens,  and  exults,  1040 

1011.  Affects:  Desires  and  seeks. 
1 035.  Emulates :  Ambitiously  desires. 
1037.  Jit  earth  (sustains)  the  body. 
20 


4  58  THE    CONSOLATION'. 

And  riots  through  the  luxuries  of  thought. 

Call  it,  The  garden  of  the  Deity, 

Blossom'd  with  stars,  redundant  in  the  growth 

Of  fruit  ambrosial ;  moral  fruit  to  man. 

Call  it,  The  breast-plate  of  the  true  High-priest,  1045 

Ardent  with  gems  oracular,  that  give, 

In  points  of  highest  moment,  right  response ; 

And  ill  neglected,  if  we  prize  our  peace. 

A   TRUE    ASTROLOGY. 


Thus,  have  we  found  a  true  astrology ; 
Thus,  have  we  found  a  new  and  noble  sense  1050 

In  which  alone  stars  govern  human  fates. 
O  that  the  stars  (as  some  have  feign'd)  let  fall 
Bloodshed,  and  havock,  on  embattled  realms, 
And  rescued  monarchs  from  so  black  a  guilt ! 
Bourbon  !  this  wish  how  gen'rous  in  a  foe!  1055 

Wouldst  thou  be  great,  wouldst  thou  become  a  god, 
And  stick  thy  deathless  name  among  the  stars, 
For  mighty  conquests  on  a  needle's  point  ? 
Instead  of  forging  chains  for  foreigners, 

Bastile  thy  tutor.     Grandeur  all  thy  aim  ?  1060 

As  yet  thou  know'st  not  what  it  is :  how  great, 
How  glorious,  then,  appears  the  mind  of  man, 
When  in  it  all  the  stars  and  planets  roll ! 

1046.  Ardent  with  ge?ns  oracular :  Brilliant  with  gems  which  were  em- 
ployed in  giving  responses  from  God  to  the  Hebrew  people  in  matters  of 
duty,  or  in  circumstances  of  difficulty 

1055.  Bourbon:  The  king  of  France,  Louis  XV. 

1060.  Bastile  thy  tutor :  Confine  thy  tutor  to  the  Bastile.  This  was  an 
old  prison  in  Paris,  erected  in  1369,  for  a  state  prison,  and  employed  at  times 
in  a  most  unprincipled  manner  by  the  French  monarchs,  as  a  place  of  per- 
petual confinement  for  the  objects  of  their  fear,  suspicion,  or  hatred.  The 
people  of  France,  in  their  rage  against  the  long-standing  abuses  of  monarchy, 
rose  in  their  might  in  1789,  and  demolished  this  place  of  cruelty,  oppression, 
and  horror. 

1063.  The  meaning  is,  when  in  its  conceptions,  and  among  its  chensried 
objects  of  consideration  and  thought,  are  found  the  stars  and  the  planeU. 


NIGHT     IX.  450 

Ajid  what  it  seems,  it  is  :  great  objects  make 

Great  minds,  enlarging  as  their  views  enlarge;  1065 

Those  still  more  godlike,  as  these  more  divine. 

And  more  divine  than  these,  thou  canst  not  see. 
Dazzled,  o'erpowerd,  with  the  delicious  draught 
Of  miscellaneous  splendours,  how  I  reel 

From  thought  to  thought,  inebriate,  without  end  !  1070 

An  Eden,  this  !  a  Paradise  unlost ! 
I  meet  the  Deity  in  ev'ry  view, 
And  tremble  at  my  nakedness  before  him  ! 
O  that  I  could  but  reach  the  tree  of  life ! 
For  here  it  grows,  unguarded  from  our  taste  ;  1075 

No  flaming  sword  denies  our  entrance  here  : 
Would  man  but  gather,  he  might  live  for  ever. 

THE    MATHEMATICAL    GLORIES    OF    THE    SKIES. 

Lorenzo,  much  of  moral  hast  thou  seen. 
Of  curious  arts  art  thou  more  fond  I     Then  mark 
The  mathematic  glories  of  the  skies,  1080 

In  number,  weight,  and  measure,  all  ordain'd. 
Lorenzo's  boasted  builders,  chance,  and  fate, 
Are  left  to  finish  his  aerial  tow'rs  : 
"Wisdom  and  choice,  their  well-known  characters 
Here  deep  impress,  and  claim  it  for  their  own.  1085 

Though  splendid  all,  no  splendour  void  of  use : 
Use  rivals  beauty ;  art  contends  with  pow'r  5 
No  wanton  waste,  amid  effuse  expense  ; 
The  great  Economist  adjusting  all 

To  prudent  pomp,  magnificently  wise.  1090 

How  rich  the  prospect !  and  for  ever  new ! 

1064-5.  There  is  great  practical  value  in  this  suggestion.  Our  minds 
take  their  character  of  greatness  or  littleness,  of  purity  or  baseness,  from 
the  nature  of  the  objects  which  we  are  most  in  the  habit  of  contemplating. 
We  have  the  power  to  direct  our  attention  to  such  as  we  choose  ;  and  hence 
our  responsibility  to  acquire  an  elevated,  virtuous,  and  religious  character. 

JOSS.  Effuse:  Profuse,  large. 


460  THE    CONSOLATION-. 

And  newest  to  the  man  that  views  it  most ; 

For  newer  still  in  infinite  succeeds. 

Then,  these  aerial  racers,  0  how  swift ! 

How  the  shaft  loiters  from  the  strongest  string  !  1095 

Spirit  alone  can  distance  the  career. 

Orb  above  orb  ascending  without  end  ! 

Circle  in  circle,  without  end,  enclosed  ! 

Wheel  within  wheel ;  Ezekiel,  like  to  thine  ! 

Like  thine,  it  seems  a  vision  or  a  dream  ;  1100 

Though  seen,  we  labour  to  believe  it  true  ! 

What  involution  !     What  extent !     What  swarms 

Of  worlds,  that  laugh  at  earth  !     Immensely  great ! 

Immensely  distant  from  each  other's  spheres  ! 

What,  then,  the  wondrous  space  through  which  they  roll? 

At  once  it  quite  ingulfs  all  human  thought;  1106 

'Tis  comprehension's  absolute  defeat. 

WONDERFUL  ORDER  OF  THE  HEAVENLY  BODIES. 

Nor  think  thou  seest  a  wild  disorder  here : 
Through  this  illustrious  chaos  to  the  sight, 
Arrangement  neat,  and  chastest  order,  reign.  1110 

The  path  prescribed,  inviolably  kept, 
Upbraids  the  lawless  sallies  of  mankind. 
Worlds,  ever  thwarting,  never  interfere  : 
What  knots  are  tied !     How  soon  are  they  dissolved, 

1094.  Aerial  racers:  The  stars  and  planets,  in  their  real  or  apparent 
motions,  greatly  excelling  in  velocity  the  arrow  projected  from  the  strong- 
est bow. 

1096.  Can  distance  the  career:  Can  leave  them  behind  in  the  race. 

1109.  Like  to  thine:  Ezek.  x.  9,  10. 

1111-12.  The  moral  reflection  here  suggested  is  impressive  and  valu- 
able. 

1113.  Tlncarting :  Crossing  each  other's  path. 

1114-15.  The  author's  wit  is  discernible  in  these  lines.  Because  the 
orbitual  paths  of  the  heavenly  bodies  are  apparently  intricate  and  perplexed, 
he  ypeaks  of   fhem   under  the  term  knot ;  and  as   the   marriage  union,  on 


MGJI1     IX.  401 

Aud  set  the  seeming  married  planets  free  !  1115 

They  rove  for  ever,  without  error  rove ; 

Confusion  unconfused  !  nor  less  admire 

This  tumult  untumultuous ;  all  on  wing ! 

In  motion,  all !  yet  what  profound  repose ! 

What  fervid  "action,  yet  no  noise!  as  awed  1120 

To  silence  by  the  presence  of  their  Lord ; 

Or  hush'd,  by  His  command,  in  love  to  man, 

And  bid  let  fall  soft  beams  on  human  rest, 

Restless  themselves.     On  yon  cerulean  plain, 

In  exultation  to  their  God,  and  thine,  1125 

They  dance,  they  sing  eternal  jubilee, 

Eternal  celebration  of  His  praise. 

But,  since  their  song  arrives  not  at  our  ear, 

Their  dance  perplex'd  exhibits  to  the  sight 

Fair  hieroglyphic  of  His  peerless  pow'r.  1130 

Mark  how  the  labyrinthian  turns  they  take, 

The  circles  intricate,  and  mystic  maze, 

account  of  its  firmness  and  indissolubleness,  is  sometimes  denoted  by  the 
same  term,  he  speaks  of  the  planets  as  seemingly  married. 

1116.  Error:  Mistake,  or  taking  a  wrong  direction. 

1117-24.  A  pleasing  series  of  contrasts  is   found  in  these  lines. 

1120.  No  noise:  Ps.  xix.,  "No  speech  or  language:  their  voice  is  not 
heard." 

1124.   Cerulean:  Azure,  bluish. 

1130.  Hieroglyphic :  Sacred  symbol. 

1131.  Labyrinthian  turns:  The  word  labyrinth  denotes  a  place  which, 
on  account  of  its  inextricable  windings,  is  difficult  to  pass  through  without 
losing  one's  self.  Ancient  history  (says  Brande)  gives  an  account  of  four 
celebrated  labyrinths — the  Cretan,  Egyptian,  Lemnian,  and  Italian.  Of 
these,  the  Cretan  is  most  celebrated  in  historical  and  mythological  writings ; 
but  the  Egyptian  was  by  far  the  most  important  both  in  extent  and  mag- 
nificence, being  an  edifice  composed  of  twelve  palaces,  all  contained  within 
Ihe  compass  of  one  wall,  and  communicating  with  each  other.  It  had  only 
one  entrance ;  but  the  innumerable  turnings  and  windings  of  the  terraces 
and  rooms  of  which  it  consisted,  rendered  it  impossible  for  those  who  had 
once  entered  within  its  walls  to  get  out  without  a  guide.  It  is  said  to  have 
been  designed  either  as  a  burial-place  for  the  Egyptian  kings,  or  for  the 
preservation  of  sacred  crocodiles,  the  chief  objects  of  Egyptian  idolatry. 


462  THE    CONSOLATION. 

Weave  the  gran  J  cipher  of  Omnipotence  ; 
To  gods,  how  great !  how  legible  to  man  ! 

Leaves  so  much  wonder  greater  wonder  still  ?  1135 

Where  are  the  pillars  that  support  the  skies  ? 
What  more  than  Atlantean  shoulder  props 
Th'  incumbent  load?     What  magic,  what  strange  art^ 
In  fluid  air  these  pond'rous  orbs  sustains  ? 
Who  would  not  think  them  hung  in  golden  chains? —      1140 
And  so  they  are ;  in  the  high  will  of  Heav'n, 
Which  fixes  all ;  makes  adamant  of  air, 
Or  air  of  adamant ;  makes  all  of  nought, 
Or  nought  of  all ;  if  such  the  dread  decree. 

Imagine  from  their  deep  foundations  torn  1145 

The  most  gigantic  sons  of  earth,  the  broad 
And  tow'ring  Alps,  all  tost  into  the  sea ; 
And,  light  as  down,  or  volatile  as  air, 
Their  bulks  enormous,  dancing  on  the  waves, 
In  time  and  measure  exquisite;  while  all  1150 

The  winds,  in  emulation  of  the  spheres, 
Tune  their  sonorous  instruments  aloft, 
The  concert  swell,  and  animate  the  ball. — 
Would  this  appear  amazing?     What,  then,  worlds, 
In  a  far  thinner  element  sustain'd,  1155 

And  acting  the  same  part,  with  greater  skill, 
More  rapid  movement,  and  for  noblest  ends  ? 

More  obvious  ends  to  pass, — are  not  these  stars 

1133.  Cipher :  A  secret  or  disguised  manner  of  writing,  not  intelligible  to 
the  uninstructed. 

1137.  Jltlantean  shoulder :  Atlas  is  alluded  to.  He  was  a  king  of  Mauri- 
tania, in  the  northwestern  part  of  Africa.  The  fable  is,  that  he  was 
changed  by  Perseus  into  a  high  mountain.  Eilher  from  this  circumstance, 
or  from  the  previous  astronomical  discoveries  of  the  king,  he  is  said  to  sup. 
port  the  heavens, 

1142  Adamant:  A  name  denoting  a  substance  of  extreme  hardness, 
hence  applied  to  the  diamond. 

1151.  Of  the  spheres:  (Of  the  music)  of  the  spheres.  Compare  note  ou 
549 


KIOB1    EX.  403 

The  seals  majestic,  proud  imperial  thrones, 

On  which  angelic  delegates  of  heav'n,  1160 

At  certain  jx  _n  nods, 

Discharge  high  trusts  of  vengeance,  or  of  love ; 

To  clothe,  in  outward  grandeur,  grand  design, 

And  acts  most  solemn  still  more  solemi. 

THE    STAE8    PROCLAIM    Man's    IMMORTALITY. 

Ye  citizens  of  air  !  what  ardent  thanks,  1165 

"What  full  effusion  of  the  grateful  heart, 
Is  due  from  man,  indulged  in  such  a  sight ! 
A  sight  so  noble  !  and  a  sight  so  kind ! 
It  drops  new  truths  at  ev'ry  new  survey  ! 
Feels  not  Lorenzo  something  stir  within,  11  TO 

That  sweeps  away  all  period  1     As  these  spheres 
Measure  duration,  they  no  less  inspire 
The  godlike  hope  of  ages  without  end. 
The  boundless  space,  thro'  which  these  rovers  take 
Their  restless  roam,  suggests  the  sister  thought  1175 

Of  boundless  time.     Thus,  by  kind  nature's  skill, 
To  man  unlabour'd,  that  important  guest, 
Eternity,  finds  entrance  at  the  sight : 
And  an  eternity,  for  man  ordai 

Or  these  his  destined  midnight  counsellors,  1180 

The  stars,  had  never  whisper'd  it  to  man. 
Nature  informs,  but  ne'er  insults,  her  sons. 
Could  she  then  kindle  the  most  ardent  wish 
To  disappoint  it  I — That  is  blasphemy. 

Thus,  of  thy  creed  a  second  article,  1185 

Momentous,  as  th'  existence  of  a  God, 
Is  found  (as  I  conceive)  where  rarely  sought ; 
A.nd  thou  mayst  read  thy  soul  immortal,  here. 

1165.   Te  citizens  of  air :  Stars  and  planets. 
117!.  Period:   \  imit. 


464  THE    CONSOLATION. 


LESSONS    FROM    THE    MOON. 

Here,  then,  Lorenzo,  on  these  glories  dwell ; 
Nor  want  the  gilt,  illuminated  roof,  1190 

That  calls  the  wretched  gay  to  dark  delights. 
Assemblies  ! — this  is  one  divinely  bright ; 
Here,  unendangered  in  health,  wealth,  or  fame, 
Eange,  through  the  fairest,  and  the  Sultan  scorn. 
He,  wise  as  thou,  no  crescent  holds  so  fair,  1195 

As  that,  which  on  his  turban  awes  a  world ; 
And  thinks  the  moon  is  proud  to  copy  him. 
Look  on  her,  and  gain  more  than  worlds  can  give, 
A  mind  superior  to  the  charms  of  pow'r. 
Thou  muffled  in  delusions  of  this  life!  1200 

Can  yonder  moon  turn  ocean  in  his  bed, 
From  side  to  side,  in  constant  ebb  and  flow, 
And  purify  from  stench  his  wat'ry  realms  ? 
And  fails  her  moral  influence  ?     Wants  she  pow'r 
To  turn  Lorenzo's  stubborn  tide  of  thought  1205 

From  stagnating  on  earth's  infected  shore, 
And  purge  from  nuisance  his  corrupted  heart  ? 
Fails  her  attraction,  when  it  draws  to  heav'n  ? 
Nay,  and  to  what  thou  valuest  more,  earth's  joys  ? 
Minds  elevate,  and  panting  for  unseen,  1210 

And  defecate  from  sense,  alone  obtain 
Full  relish  of  existence  undeflower'd, 
The  life  of  life,  the  zest  of  worldly  bliss. 
All  else  on  earth  amounts — to  what  ?     To  this : 

1190.    Want:  Desire. 

1194.  Sultan:  The  author  here  contrasts  the  bright  assemblage  of  the 
iiira.n  and  stars  with  the  gay  and  voluptuous  assemblage  in  the  seraglio 
of  the  Ernperor  of  Turkey. 

1195.  Crescent :  The  figure  of  an  increasing  or  new  moon  is  inserted  on 
the  Sultan's  turban,  and  also  on  the  Turkish  standard. 

1210-11.  Elevate:  Elevated.     Defecate:  Defecated  or  purified. 


NIGHT    IX. 


46; 


*  Bad  to  be  suffer  d  ;  blessings  to  be  left :'  1215 

Earth's  richest  inventory  boasts  no  more. 

THE    FIELD    OF    CELESTIAL    CONTEMPLATION,    BOUNDLESS. 

Of  higher  scenes  be  then  the  call  obey'd. 
0  let  me  gaze ! — Of  gazing  there's  no  end. 
O  let  me  think  ! — Thought  too  is  wilder'd  here ; 
In  mid-way  flight  imagination  tires  ;  1220 

Yet  soon  reprunes  her  wing  to  soar  anew, 
Her  point  unable  to  forbear,  or  gain ; 
So  great  the  pleasure  !  so  profound  the  plan ! 
A  banquet,  this,  where  men  and  angels  meet, 
Eat  the  same  manna,  mingle  earth  and  heav'u.  1225 

How  distant  some  of  these  nocturnal  suns  ! 
So  distant,  (says  the  sage.)  'twere  not  absurd 
To  doubt,  if  beams,  set  out  at  nature's  birth, 
Are  yet  arrived  at  this  so  foreign  world ; 

Though  nothing  half  so  rapid  as  their  flight.  1230 

An  eye  of  awe  and  wonder  let  me  roll, 
And  roll  for  ever :  who  can  satiate  sight 
In  such  a  scene  ?  in  such  an  ocean  wide 
Of  deep  astonishment  •  where  depth,  height,  breadth, 
Are  lost  in  their  extremes  ;  and  where,  to  count  1235 

The  thick-sown  glories  in  this  field  of  fire, 

1215.  Bad  things  are  to  be  endured,  good  things  are  to  be  left  behind. 

There  are  some  exquisitely  beautiful  things  said  about  the  moon  in  Mrs. 
Ellis'  "  Poetry  of  Life/'  Among  other  things  she  says :  We  cannot  look 
upon  the  stars  without  being  struck  with  a  sense  of  their  distance,  their 
unattainable  height,  the  immeasurable  extent  of  space  that  lies  between  the 
celestial  fields  which  they  traverse  with  a  perpetual  harmony  of  motion, 
and  the  low  world  of  petty  cares  where  we  lie  grovelling.  But  the  moon, 
the  placid  moon,  is  just  high  enough  for  sublimity — just  near  enough  for 
love.  So  benign,  and  bland,  and  softly  beautiful  is  her  ever-beaming  coun- 
tenance, that  when  personifying,  as  we  always  do,  the  moon,  she  seems  to 
us  rather  as  purified  than  as  having  been  always  pure. 

1221.  Reprunes:  Trims  again. 

1227    The  rage:  Huygens. 
20* 


466  THE    COXSOLATIOX. 

Perhaps  a  seraph's  computation  fails. 

Now,  go,  ambition  !  boast  thy  boundless  might 

In  conquest,  o'er  the  tenth  part  of  a  grain. 

MIRACLES    COMPARED. 

And  jet  Lorenzo  calls  for  miracles,  1240 

To  give  his  tott'ring  faith  a  solid  base. 
Why  call  for  less  than  is  already  thine  ? 
Thou  art  no  novice  in  theology ; 
What  is  a  miracle  ? — 'Tis  a  reproach, 

'Tis  an  implicit  satire,  on  mankind;  1245 

And  while  it  satisfies,  it  censures  too. 
To  common  sense,  great  nature's  course  proclaims 
A  Deity  :  when  mankind  falls  asleep, 
A  miracle  is  sent,  as  an  alarm ; 

To  wake  the  world,  and  prove  Him  o'er  again,  1250 

By  recent  argument,  but  not  more  strong. 
Say,  which  imports  more  plenitude  of  pow'r, 
Or  nature's  laws  to  fix,  or  to  repeal ! 
To  make  a  sun,  or  stop  his  mid  career  ? 

To  countermand  his  orders,  and  send  back  1255 

The  flaming  courier  to  the  frighted  east, 
Warm'd,  and  astonish'd,  at  his  evening  ray  ? 
Or  bid  the  moon,  as  with  her  journey  tired, 
In  Ajalon's  soft  flow'ry  vale  repose  ? 

Great  things  are  these;  still  greater,  to  create.  1200 

From  Adam's  bow'r  look  down  through  the  whole  train 
Of  miracles  ; — resistless  is  their  pow'r  ? 
They  do  not,  cannot,  more  amaze  the  mind, 
Than  this,  call'd  unmiraculous  survey, 

If  duly  weigh'd,  if  rationally  seen,  1265 

If  seen  with  human  eyes.     The  brute,  indeed, 

1248.  Falls  asleep :  That  is,  in  idolatry,  vice,  and  ungodliness. 
1253.   Or  nature's  laws  to  fix  :  Whether  to  fix,  &c. 

1259.  In  djaloti's  soft  vale  :  The  miracle  here  spoken  of  is  recorded  in  the 
book  of  Joshua,  x.  12 — 14. 


NIGHT    IX.  467 

Sees  nought  but  spangles  here  ;  the  fool,  no  more. 

Say'st  thou,  '  The  course  of  nature  governs  all  ?' 

The  course  of  nature  is  the  art  of  God. 

The  miracles  thou  call'st  for,  this  attest ;  1270 

For  say,  could  nature  nature's  course  control  ? 

ASTRONOMICAL    INQUIRIES. 

But,  miracles  apart,  who  sees  Him  not, 
Nature's  controller,  author,  guide,  and  end? 
Who  turns  his  eye  on  nature's  midnight  face, 
But  must  inquire — '  What  hand  behind  the  scene,  1275 

What  arm  almighty,  put  these  wheeling  globes 
In  motion,  and  wound  up  the  vast  machine  ? 
Who  rounded  in  his  palm  these  spacious  orbs  ? 
Who  bowl'd  them  flaming  thro'  the  dark  profound, 
Num'rous  as  glitt'ring  gems  of  morning  dew,  1280 

Or  sparks  from  populous  cities  in  a  blaze, 
And  set  the  bosom  of  old  night  on  fire  ? 
Peopled  her  desert,  and  made  horror  smile  ? 
Or,  if  the  military  style  delights  thee, 

(For  stars  have  fought  their  battles,  leagued  with  man)     1285 
'  Who  marshals  this  bright  host  ?  enrolls  their  names  ? 
Appoints  their  post,  their  marches,  and  returns, 
Punctual,  at  stated  periods  ?  who  disbands 
These  vet'ran  troops,  their  final  duty  done, 
If  e'er  disbanded  V — He,  whose  potent  word,  1290 

1272-S3.  WIio  sees  Him  not.  &c. :  Dr.  Cheever remarks:  What  grand  lines 
are  these !  The  sublimity  of  Young  rises  sometimes  higher  than  that  of 
Dante,  as  his  devotion  is  more  direct  and  scriptural.  The  grandeur  of  that 
image  or  conception  of  the  spacious  orbs  bowl'd  flaming  through  the  dark  pro- 
found, numerous  as  glittering  gems  of  morning  dew,  could  scarcely  be  ex- 
ceeded. It  is  like  the  image  of  the  same  great  poet,  of  Olden  Time,  sternly 
driving  his  ploughshare  over  creation.  The  poem  of  the  Night  Thoughts  is 
full  of  great  and  rich  materials  for  the  mind  and  heart :  it  is  one  of  the  best 
demonstrations  in  our  language  of  the  absurdity  of  that  strange  idea  of  Dr. 
Tohnson,  that  devotion  is  not  a  fit  subject  for  poetry ! 

1279.  Profound:  Depths  of  space. 


468  THE    CONSOLATION 

Like  the  loud  trumpet,  levied  first  their  pow'rs 

In  night's  inglorious  empire,  where  they  slept 

In  beds  of  darkness  ;  arm'd  them  with  fierce  flames, 

Arranged,  and  disciplined,  and  clothed  in  gold ; 

And  call'd  them  out  of  chaos  to  the  field,  1295 

Where  now  they  war  with  vice  and  unbelief. 

O  let  us  join  this  army  !     Joining  these, 

Will  give  us  hearts  intrepid,  at  that  hour, 

When  brighter  flames  shall  cut  a  darker  night ; 

When  these  strong  demonstrations  of  a  God  1300 

Shall  hide  their  heads,  or  tumble  from  their  spheres, 

And  one  eternal  curtain  cover  all ! 

A    PRAYER   TO    THE    STARS,    AND    TO    THEIR    GREAT    AUTHOR. 

Struck  at  that  thought,  as  new  awaked,  I  lift 
A  more  enlighten'd  eye,  and  read  the  stars, 
To  man  still  more  propitious  ;  and  their  aid  1305 

(Though  guiltless  of  idolatry)  implore, 
Nor  longer  rob  them  of  their  noblest  name. 
0  ye  dividers  of  my  time !     Ye  bright 
Accountants  of  my  days,  and  months,  and  years, 
In  your  fair  calendar  distinctly  mark'd  !  1310 

Since  that  authentic,  radiant  register, 
Tho'  man  inspects  it  not,  stands  good  against  him  ; 
Sir.ce  you,  and  years,  roll  on,  tho'  man  stands  still ; 
Teach  me  my  days  to  number,  and  apply 
My  trembling  heart  to  wisdom;  now  beyond  1315 

All  shadow  of  excuse  for  fooling  on, 
Age  smooths  our  path  to  prudence  ;  sweeps  aside 
The  snares,  keen  appetites,  and  passion,  spread 
To  catch  stray  souls :  and  wo  to  that  grey  head, 
Whose  folly  would  undo  what  age  has  done  !  1320 

Aid  then,  aid,  all  ye  stars ! — Much  rather,  Thou, 
Great  Artist !     Thou,  whose  finger  set  aright 
This  exquisite  machine,  with  all  its  wheels, 
Though  intervolved,  exact ;  and  pointing  out 


NIGHT   IX.  469 

Life's  rapid  and  irrevocable  flight,  1325 

With  such  an  index  fair,  as  none  can  miss, 

Who  lifts  an  eye,  nor  sleeps  till  it  is  closed. 

Open  mine  eye,  dread  Deity  !  to  read 

The  tacit  doctrine  of  thy  works  ;  to  see 

Things  as  they  are,  unalter'd,  through  the  glass  1330 

Of  worldly  wishes.     Time  !  Eternity  ! 

('Tis  these  mismeasured,  ruin  all  mankind) 

Set  them  before  me ;  let  me  lay  them  both 

In  equal  scale,  and  learn  their  various  weight. 

Let  time  appear  a  moment,  as  it  is;  1335 

And  let  eternity's  full  orb,  at  once, 

Turn  on  my  soul,  and  strike  it  into  heav'n. 

When  shall  I  see  far  more  than  charms  me  now  ? 

Gaze  on  creation's  model  in  Thy  breast 

Unveil'd,  nor  wonder  at  the  transcript  more  ?  1340 

When,  this  vile,  foreign  dust,  which  smothers  all 

That  travel  earth's  deep  vale,  shall  I  shake  off? 

When  shall  my  soul  her  incarnation  quit, 

And,  re-adopted  to  thy  blest  embrace, 

Obtain  her  apotheosis  in  Thee  ?  1345 

THE    UNIVERSE,    A    TEMPLE    OF    DEVOTION. 

Dost  think,  Lorenzo,  this  is  wand'ring  wide  ? 
No,  'tis  directly  striking  at  the  mark : 
To  wake  thy  dead  devotion,  was  my  point ; 
And  how  I  bless  night's  consecrating  shades, 
Which  to  a  temple  turn  an  universe  ;  1350 

Fill  us  with  great  ideas,  full  of  heav'n, 
And  antidote  the  pestilential  earth  ! 
In  ev'ry  storm,  that  either  frowns,  or  falls. 
What  an  asylum  has  the  soul  in  pray'r  ! 
And  what  a  fane  is  this,  in  which  to  pray  !  1355 

And  what  a  God  must  dwell  in  such  a  fane  ! 

1345.  Apotheosis :  Deification,  in  a  modified  and  subordinate  sense 


4*70  the  consolation; 

O  what  a  genius  must  inform  the  skies ! 

And  is  Lorenzo's  salamander  heart 

Cold,  and  untouch'd,  amid  these  sacred  fires  ? 

0  ye  nocturnal  sparks !     Ye  glowing  embers,  13G0 

On  heav'n's  broad  hearth !  who  burn,  or  burn  no  more, 

Who  blaze,  or  die,  as  great  Jehovah's  breath 

Or  blows  you,  or  forbears  ;  assist  my  song  ; 

Pour  your  whole  influence  ;  exorcise  his  heart, 

So  long  possess'd  ;  and  bring  him  back  to  man.  T3G5 

EXTENDED    VIEWS    ENLARGE    THE    MIND. 

And  is  Lorenzo  a  demurrer  still  ? 
Pride  in  thy  parts  provokes  thee  to  contest 
Truths,  which,  contested,  put  thy  parts  to  shame. 
Nor  shame  they  more  Lorenzo's  head  than  heart ; 
A  faithless  heart,  how  despicably  small !  1370 

Too  strait,  aught  great  or  gen'rous  to  receive  ! 
Fill'd  with  an  atom  !  fill'd,  and  foul'd,  with  self ! 
And  self  mistaken  ;  self,  that  lasts  an  hour ! 
Instincts,  and  passions,  of  the  nobler  kind, 
Lie  suffocated  there;  or  they  alone,  13 7 5 

Reason  apart,  would  wake  high  hoj^e  ;  and  open, 
To  ravish'd  thought,  that  intellectual  sphere, 
Where  order,  wisdom,  goodness,  providence, 
Their  endless  miracles  of  love  display, 

And  promise  all  the  truly  great  desire.  1380 

The  mind  that  would  be  happy,  must  be  great ; 
Great,  in  its  wishes ;  great,  in  its  surveys. 

1357    Inform  the  skies:  Give  to  the  skies  their  form. 

1358.  Salamander  heart:  The  salamander  is  a  species  of  lizard,  and 
according  to  the  vulgar,  but  mistaken  notion,  was  supposed  to  be  able  to 
endure  the  intensest  tire  without  pain  or  change. 

1363.  Or  bloivs :  Either  blows. 

1364.  Exorcise  his  heart:  Drive  out  the  demon  from  his  heart. 

1366.  Demurrer:  Doubter. 

1367.  Pride  in  thy  parts  •  Pride  of  intellect. 


NIGHT    IX.  471 

Extended  views  a  narrow  mind  extend ; 

Push  out  its  corrugate,  expansive  make, 

Which,  ere  long,  more  than  planets  shall  embrace.  1385 

A  man  of  compass  makes  a  man  of  worth : 

Divine  contemplate,  and  become  divine. 

AN    APPEAL    TO    THE    SCEPTIC. 

As  man  was  made  for  glory,  and  for  bliss, 
All  littleness  is  an  approach  to  wo : 

Open  thy  bosom,  set  thy  wishes  wide,  1390 

And  let  in  manhood ;  let  in  happiness ; 
Admit  the  boundless  theatre  of  thought 
From  nothing,  up  to  God  ;  which  makes  a  man. 
Take  God  from  nature,  nothing  great  Is  left ; 
Man's  mind  is  in  a  pit,  and  nothing  sees  ;  1395 

Man's  heart  is  in  a  jakes,  and  loves  the  mire. 
Emerge  from  thy  profound ;  erect  thine  eye  ; 
See  thy  distress !     How  close  art  thou  besieged ! 
Besieged  by  nature,  the  proud  sceptic's  foe  ! 
Enclosed  by  these  innumerable  worlds,  1400 

Sparkling  conviction  on  the  darkest  mind, 
As  in  a  golden  net  of  Providence, 
How  art  thou  caught,  sure  captive  of  belief  ! 
From  this  thy  blest  captivity,  what  art, 

What  blasphemy  to  reason,  sets  thee  free  !  1405 

This  scene  is  Heav'n's  indulgent  violence. 
Canst  thou  bear  up  against  this  tide  of  glory  ? 
What  is  earth,  bosom'd  in  these  ambient  orbs, 
But,  faith  in  God  imposed,  and  press'd  on  man  ? 
Dar'st  thou  still  litigate  thy  desp'rate  cause,  1410 

Spite  of  these  num'rous,  awful  witnesses, 
And  doubt  the  deposition  of  the  skies  ? 
O  how  laborious  is  thy  way  to  ruin ! 

1384.  Corrugate,  expansive  make :  Folded,  wrinkled,  not  expanded,  yet  ex- 
Dansible  structure. 

139G.  Man's  heart  is  immersed  in  a  filthy  pit,  and  loves  the  mire. 


472 


THE    CONSOLATION. 


GOD    VISIBLE    IN    CREATION. 


Laborious  ?  'tis  impracticable  quite  : 
To  sink  beyond  a  doubt,  in  this  debate,  1415 

With  all  his  weight  of  wisdom,  and  of  will, 
And  crime  flagitious,  I  defy  a  fool. 
Some  wish  they  did  ;  but  no  man  disbelieves. 
God  is  a  spirit ;  spirit  cannot  strike  . 

These  gross,  material  organs  :  God  by  man  1420 

As  much  is  seen,  as  man  a  God  can  see, 
In  these  astonishing  exploits  of  power. 
What  order,  beauty,  motion,  distance,  size! 
Conception  of  design,  how  exquisite  ! 

How  complicate,  in  their  divine  police !  1425 

Apt  means  !  great  ends  !  consent  to  general  good ! — ■ 
Each  attribute  of  these  material  gods, 
So  long  (and  that  with  specious  pleas)  adored, 
A  separate  conquest  gains  o'er  rebel  thought ; 
And  leads  in  triumph  the  whole  mind  of  man.  1430 

Lorenzo,  this  may  seem  harangue  to  thee  ; 
Such  all  is  apt  to  seem,  that  thwarts  our  will. 
And  dost  thou,  then,  demand  a  simple-proof 
Of  this  great  master-moral  of  the  skies, 

Unskili'd,  or  disinclin'd,  to  read  it  there?  1435 

Since  'tis  the  basis,  and  all  drops  without  it, 
Take  it,  in  one  compact,  unbroken  chain. 
Such  proof  insists  on  an  attentive  ear; 
'Twill  not  make  one  amid  a  mob  of  thoughts, 
And,  for  thy  notice,  struggle  with  the  world.  1440 

Retire  ; — the  world  shut  out ; — thy  thoughts  call  home  ; — 

1425.  Police:  Regulation. 

1426.  Consent :  Adaptation. 

1434.  Master-moral ;  Chief  doctrine  or  lesson. 

1438.  Insists  on,  &c. :  Stands  on  an  attentive  ear:  cannot  otherwise  be 
appreciated.  m 


473 


Imagination's  airy  wing  repress  : 

Lock  up  thy  souses  ; — let  thy  passion  stir ; — 

Wake  all  to  reason; — let  her  reign  alone  ; — 

Then,  in  thy  soul's  deep  silence,  and  the  depth  1445 

Of  nature's  silence,  midnight,  thus  inquire, 

As  I  have  done ;  and  shall  inquire  no  more. 

In  nature's  channel,  thus  the  questions  run  : 


ARGUMENTS    FOR   THE    EXISTENCE    OF    GOn. 

'  What  am  I  ?  and  from  whence  ? — I  nothing  know, 
But  that  I  am  ;  and,  since  I  am,  conclude  1450 

Something  eternal !  had  there  e'er  been  nought, 
Nought  still  had  been  :  eternal  there  must  be. — 
But  what  eternal  8 — why  not  human  race  ? 
And  Adam's  ancestors  without  an  end  ? — 
That's  hard  to  be  conceived;  since  every  link  1455 

Of  that  long  chain'd  succession  is  so  frail : 
Can  every  part  depend,  and  not  the  whole  ? 
Yet  grant  it  true  ;  new  difficulties  rise  ; 
I'm  still  quite  out  at  sea  ;  nor  see  the  shore. 
Whence  earth,  and  these  blight  orbs  ? — eternal  too  ?         1460 
Grant  matter  was  eternal ;  still  these  orbs 
Would  want  some  other  father  ? — much  design 
Is  seen  in  all  their  motions,  all  their  makes  : 
Design  implies  intelligence,  and  art : 

That  can't  be  from  themselves — or  man  ;  that  art  14(35 

Man  scarce  can  comprehend,  could  man  bestow  ? 
And  nothing  greater,  yet  allow'd,  than  man. — 
Who,  motion,  foreign  to  the  smallest  grain, 
Shot  through  vast  masses  of  enormous  weight  ? 


1451.  Had  there,  &c. :  Had  there  ever  been  a  time  when  no  thing  or 
being  whatever  existed. 

1452.  Eternal  there  must  be:  Dr.  Thomas  Brown  has  an  argument  on  this 
topic  well  worth  reading,  in  his  Philosophy  of  the  Human  Mind,  vol.  iii. 
434-C. 


4:74  THE    CONSOLATION. 

Who  bid  brute  matter's  restive  lump  assume  14*70 

Sueb  various  forms,  and  gave  it  wings  to  fly  ? 

Has  matter  innate  motion  ?     Then  each  atom, 

Asserting  its  indisputable  right 

To  dance,  would  form  an  universe  of  dust. 

Has  matter  none  ?     Then  whence  these  glorious  forms       1475 

And  boundless  flights,  from  shapeless,  and  reposed? 

Has  matter  more  than  motion  ?     Has  it  thought, 

Judgment,  and  genius  ?     Is  it  deeply  learn'd 

In  mathematics  ?     Has  it  framed  such  laws, 

"Which,  but  to  guess,  a  Newton  made  immortal? —  1480 

If  so,  how  each  sage  atom  laughs  at  me, 

Who  think  a  clod  inferior  to  a  man  ! 

If  art,  to  form  ;  and  counsel,  to  conduct ; 

And  that  with  greater  far,  than  humble  skill, 

Resides  not  in  each  block  ; — a  Godhead  reigns. — ■  1485 

Grant,  then,  invisible,  eternal,  Mind  ; 

That  granted,  all  is  solved. — But,  granting  that, 

Draw  I  not  o'er  me  a  still  darker  cloud  ? 

Grant  I  not  that  which  I  can  ne'er  conceive  ? 

A  being  without  origin,  or  end !  i490 

Hail,  human  liberty  !     There  is  no  God — 

Yet,  why  ?     On  either  scheme  that  knot  subsists  ; 

Subsist  it  must,  in  God,  or  human  race ; 

If  in  the  last,  how  many  knots  beside, 

Indissoluble  all  ? — Why  choose  it  there,  1495 

Where,  chosen,  still  subsist  ten  thousand  more  ? 

Reject  it,  where,  that  chosen,  all  the  rest 

Dispersed,  leave  reason's  whole  horizon  clear  ? 

This  is  not  reason's  dictate  :  reason  says, 

Close  with  the  side  where  one  grain  turns  the  scale.  1500 

What  vast  preponderance  is  here !     Can  reason 

With  louder  voice  exclaim — Believe  a  God  ? 

And  reason  heard,  is  the  sole  mark  of  man. 

475.  None:  No  innate  motion.  » 


MIGHT    IX.  475 

What  things  impossible  must  man  think  true, 

On  any  other  system  !  and,  how  strange  1505 

To  disbelieve,  through  mere  credulity '.' 

If,  in  this  chain,  Lorenzo  finds  no  flaw, 
Let  it  for  ever  hind  him  to  belief. 
And  where  the  link,  in  which  a  flaw  he  finds  ? 
And.  if  a  God  there  is,  that  God  how  great !  1510 

How  great  that  Power,  whose  providential  care 
Through  these  bright  orbs'  dark  centres  darts  a  ray ! 
Of  nature  universal  threads  the  whole ! 

^rid  hangs  creation,  like  a  precious  gem, 
Though  little,  on  the  footstool  of  his  throne!  1515 

That  little  gem,  how  large  !     A  weight  let  fall 
From  a  fix'd  star,  in  ages  can  it  reach 
This  distant  earth  ?     Say,  then,  Lorenzo  !  where, 

Where  ends  this. mighty  building  ?     Where  begin 

The  suburbs  of  creation?     Where  the  wall,  1520 

Whose  battlements  look  o'er  into  the  vale 

Of  nonexistence  ?     Nothing's  strange  abode  ! 

Say,  at  what  point  of  space  Jehovah  dropp'd 

His  slacken'd  fine,  and  laid  his  balance  by ; 

Weigh'd  worlds,  and  measured  infinite,  no  more  ?  1525 

Where  rears  his  terminating  pillar  high 

Its  extramundane  head  ?  and  says,  to  gods, 

In  characters  illustrious  as  the  sun. 

/  stand,  the  plan's  proud  'period  ;  I  pronounce 

The  work  accomplisWd  ;   the  creation  closed :  1530 

Shout,  all  ye  gods  !  nor  shout,  ye  gods  alone  ; 

Of  all  that  lives,  or,  if  devoid  of  life. 

That  rests,  or  rolls,  ye  heights,  and  depths,  resound ! 

Resound  !  resound  !  ye  depths,  and  heights,  resound  ! 

7527    Extramundane  head:   Its   top   without    or   beyond  the   limits   of 
created  worlds. 

1529.   Period:  Limit. 


476  THE    CONSOLATION. 


GRAND    CONCEPTIONS    OF    THE    POWER    OF    THE    CREATOR. 

Hard  are  those  questions  ? — Answer  harder  still.  1535 

Is  this  the  sole  exploit,  the  single  birth, 
The  solitary  son,  of  Power  Divine  ? 
Or  has  th'  Almighty  Father,  with  a  breath, 
Impregnated  the  womb  of  distant  space  ? 
Has  He  not  bid,  in  various  provinces,  1540 

Brother-creations  the  dark  bowels  burst 
Of  night  primeval ;  barren,  now,  no  more  ? 
And  He  the  central  sun  transpiercing  all 
Those  giant-generations,  which  disport, 

And  dance,  as  motes,  in  his  meridian  ray;  1545 

That  my  withdrawn,  benighted,  or  absorb'd, 
In  that  abvss  of  horror,  whence  they  sprung; 
While  Chaos  triumphs,  repossess'd  of  all 
Rival  creation  ravish'd  from  his  throne  ? 
Chaos  !  of  nature  both  the  womb,  and  grave  !  1550 

1545.  As  Motes:  The  sublimity  of  thought  excited  by  this  comparison,  is 
worthy  of  admiration.  In  this  entire  connection  the  author's  lofty  and 
devout  genius  luxuriates,  soars,  and  triumphs,  carrying  us  along  with  a  pleas- 
ing ecstasy. 

1550.  Chaos!  of  nature,  &c. :  For  a  history  of  chaos  we  are  indebted  to 
the  lively  fancy  of  the  author  of  Paradise  Lost.  This  line  is  a  literal  quo- 
tation,  as  will  be  seen  from  the  extract  subjoined  from  Book  II.  891 — 916: 

The  secrets  of  the  hoary  deep,  a  dark 

Illimitable  ocean,  without  bound, 

Without  dimension,  -where  length,  breadth,  and  height. 

And  time,  and  place,  are  lost;  where  eldest  Night 

And  Chaos,  ancestors  of  Nature,  hold 

Eternal  anarchy,  amidst  the  noise 

Of  endless  wars,  and  by  confusion  stand. 

For  hot,  cold,  moist,  and  dry,  four  champions  fierce 

Strive  here  for  mast'ry,  and  to  battle  bring 

Their  embryon  atoms,  &c. 

*  *  *  * 

Into  this  wild  abyss, 
The  womb  of  Nature,  and  perhaps  her  grave, 
Of  neither  sea,  nor  shore,  nor  air,  nor  fire, 
But  all  these  in  their  pregnant  causes  mix'd 
Confus'dly,  and  which  thus  must  ever  fight, 
Unless  th'  Almighty  Maker  them  ordain 
His  dark  materials  to  create  more  worlds. 


Kin  in    ix. 


477 


Think'st  tliou  my  scheme,  Lorenzo,  spreads  too  wide? 
Is  this  extravagant? — No;  this  is  just; 
Just,  in  conjecture,  though  'twere  false  in  fact. 
If  'tis  an  error,  'tis  an  error  sprung 

From  noble  root,  high  thought  of  the  Most  High.  1555 

But  wherefore  error  ?     Who  can  prove  it  such  ? — 
He  that  can  set  Omnipotence  a  hound. 
Can  man  conceive  beyond  what  God  can  do  \ 
Nothing,  but  quite  impossible,  is  hard. 

He  summons  into  being,  with  like  ease,  1560 

A  whole  creation,  and  a  single  grain. 
Speaks  he  the  word  ?  a  thousand  worlds  are  born ! — 
A  thousand  worlds  ?  there's  space  for  millions  more ; 
And  in  what  space  can  his  great  fiat  fail  ) 
Condemn  me  not,  cold  critic  !  but  indulge  1565 

The  warm  imagination  :  why  condemn  ? 
Why  not  indulge  such  thoughts,  as  swell  our  hearts 
W'ith  fuller  admiration  of  that  Power, 
Who  gives  our  hearts  with  such  high  thoughts  to  swell  ? 
Why  not  indulge  in  His  augmented  praise  ?  1570 

Darts  not  His  glory  a  still  brighter  ray, 
The  less  is  left  to  Chaos,  and  the  realms 
Of  hideous  Night,  where  fancy  strays  aghast ; 
And,  though  most  talkative,  makes  no  report  ? 

Still  seems  my  thought  enormous  ?     Think  again  ; —    1575 
Experience  'self  shall  aid  thy  lame  belief. 
Glasses  (that  revelation  to  the  sight !) 
Have  they  not  led  us  deep  in  the  disclose 
Qf  fine-spun  nature,  exquisitely  small  ; 

And,  though  demonstrated,  still  ill  conceived?  1580 

If,  then,  on  the  reverse,  the  mind  would  mount 
In  magnitude,  what  mind  can  mount  too  far. 
To  keep  the  balance,  and  creation  poise  ? 
Defect  alone  can  err  on  such  a  theme  : 

1572.   The  less  (that)  is  left,  &c. 
1578.   Disclose:  Uncovering. 


478  THE    COKSOLATION. 

What  Is  too  gfe&t,  if  we  the  Cause  survey  ?  1585 

Stupendous  Architect !     Thou,  Thou  art  all ! 

My  soul  flies  up  and  down  in  thoughts  of  Thee, 

And  finds  herself  but  at  the  centre  still ! 

I  AM,  thy  name  !     Existence,  all  thine  own  ! 

Creation's  nothing  ;  flatter'd  much,  if  styled  1590 

'  The  thin,  the  fleeting  atmosphere  of  God.' 

O  for  the  voice — of  what  ?  of  whom  ? — What  voice 
Can  answer  to  my  wants,  in  such  ascent, 
As  dares  to  deem  one  universe  too  small? 
Tell  me,  Lorenzo  !  (for  now  fancy  glows,  1595 

Fired  in  the  vortex  of  Almighty  Power) 
Is  not  this  home  creation,  in  the  map 
Of  universal  nature,  as  a  speck, 
Like  fair  Britannia  in  our  little  ball ; 

Exceeding  fair,  and  glorious  for  its  size,  1600 

But,  elsewhere,  far  outmeasured,  far  outshone  ? 
In  fancy  (for  the  fact  beyond  us  lies,) 
Canst  thou  not  figure  it,  an  isle,  almost 
Too  small  for  notice,  in  the  vast  of  being; 
Sever'd  by  might)?-  seas  of  unbuilt  space  1605 

From  other  realms ;  from  ample  continents 
Of  higher  life,  where  nobler  natives  dwell ; 
Less  northern,  less  remote  from  Deity, 
Glowing  beneath  the  line  of  the  Supreme ; 
Where  souls  in  excellence  make  haste,  put  forth  1610 

1597.  Home  creation  :  This  earth  and  its  atmosphere 

1 599.  Ball :  The  globe. 

1604.   The  vast  (extent)  of  being. 

1609.  The  line,  he:  The  equinoctial  line.  It  will  be  observed  that  the 
figurative  language  of  this  passage  is  all  drawn  from  geography.  The  Deity 
is  conceived  as  dwelling  over  the  torrid  zone  of  the  earth,  as  if  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood of  the  sun ;  and  as  in  that  region  of  the  earth  vegetation  is  most 
luxuriant  and  constant,  so  those  who  dwell  nearest  the  Deity,  by  meditation, 
prayer,  and  holy  living,  put  forth  luxuriant  growths  of  excellence,  and  ripen 
soon  to  gods,  or  acquire  a  maturity  and  perfection  of  moral  worth. 


NIGH!     IX.  479 

Luxuriant  growths;  nor  the  late  autumn  wait 
Of  human  worth,  but  ripen  soon  to  gods  ? 

THE    DOMINIONS    OF    THE    SUN. 

Yet  why  drown  fancy  in  such  depths  as  these  \ 
Return,  presumptuous  rover  !  and  confess 
The  bounds  of  man  ;  nor  blame  them,  as  too  small.  1G15 

Enjoy  we  not  full  scope  in  what  is  seen  ? 
Full  ample  the  dominions  of  the  sun  ! 
Full  glorious  to  behold  !     How  far,  how  wide, 
The  matchless  monarch,  from  his  flaming  throne, 
Lavish  of  lustre,  throws  his  beams  about  him,  1G20 

Farther,  and  faster,  than  a  thought  can  fly, 
And  feeds  his  planets  with  eternal  fires ! 
This  Heliopolis,  by  greater  far, 
Than  the  proud  tyrant  of  the  Nile,  wras  built ; 
And  He  alone,  who  built  it,  can  destroy.  1025 

Beyond  this  city,  why  strays  human  thought? 
One  wonderful,  enough  for  man  to  know  ! 
One  infinite,  enough  for  man  to  range  ! 
One  firmament,  enough  for  man  to  read ! 

O  what  voluminous  instruction  here  !  1630 

What  page  of  wisdom  is  denied  him  ?     None  ; 
If  learning  his  chief  lesson  makes  him  wise. 
Nor  is  instruction,  here,  our  only  gain  ; 
There  dwells  a  noble  pathos  in  the  skies, 

1615.  The  bounds  of  tnan  :  The  limits  of  research  assigned  to  man. 

1623.  This  Heliopolis  :  This  city  of  the  sun,  as  the  word  indicates,  the  sun 
being  here  compared  to  the  ancient  city  of  that  name,  situated  near  the  apex 
of  the  Delta  of  the  Nile,  not  far  from  modern  Cairo.  It  was  ornamented 
with  a  splendid  temple  of  the  sun.  Nothing  now  remains  of  the  city  but  a 
single  obelisk.  There  was  another  city  in  Syria  of  the  same  name,  and 
noted  for  a  temple  devoted  to  the  same  Deity.  Its  modern  name  is  Baal- 
beck. 

1634.  A  noble  pathos  in  the  sfcies :  They  have  the  power  to  affect  our  feel- 
ings in  a  strong  and  elevating  manner  and  degree. 


480  THE    CONSOLATION. 

Which  warms  our  passions,  proselytes  our  hearts.  1635 

How  eloquently  shines  the  glowing  pole ! 

With  what  authority  it  gives  its  charge, 

Remonstrating  great  truths  in  style  sublime, 

Though  silent,  loud !  heard  earth  around  ;  above 

The  planets  heard ;  and  not  unheard  in  hell :  1 G  i  0 

Hell  has  her  wonder,  though  too  proud  to  praise. 

Is  earth,  then,  more  infernal  ?     Has  she  those, 

Who  neither  praise  (Lorenzo  !)  nor  admire  ? 


THE    FIRST    VOLUME    OF   THE    DEITY. 

Lorenzo's  admiration,  pre-engaged, 
Ne'er  ask'd  the  moon  one  question  ;  never  held  1645 

Least  correspondence  with  a  single  star ; 
Ne'er  rear'd  an  altar  to  the  queen  of  heaven 
Walking  in  brightness ;  or  her  train  adored. 
Their  sublunary  rivals  have  long  since 

Engross'd  his  whole  devotion  ;  stars  malign,  1650 

Which  made  their  fond  astronomer  run  mad ; 
Darken  his  intellect,  corrupt  his  heart ; 
Cause  him  to  sacrifice  his  fame  and  peace 
To  momentary  madness,  call'd  Delight : 

Idolater,  more  gross  than  ever  kiss'd  1655 

The  lifted  hand  to  Luna,  or  pour'd  out 

1647-48.  Queen  of  heaven  walking,  &c. :  Job  xxxi.  26,  27,  ''  Or  the  moon 
walking  in  brightness,  and  my  heart  hath  been  recently  enticed,"  &c. 

1650.  Stars  malign  :  Malignant  stars.  An  expression  used  to  denote  the 
worldly  objects  that  attracted  and  corrupted  Lorenzo.  It  was  an  ancient 
superstition  that  the  sun,  moon,  and  planets,  in  certain  relative  positions,  or 
appearing  at  particular  conjunctures,  exerted  upon  individuals  a  disastrous 
influence. 

1656.  Luna  :  The  moon.  We  learn  from  the  above  quotation,  that  early 
as  the  days  of  Job,  the  moon  was  an  object  of  adoration,  B.  C.  1520,  or 
earlier  according  to  some. 


NIGHT    IX.  481 

The  blood  to  Jove ! — O  THOU,  to  whom  belongs 

All  sacrifice  !  0  thou  Great  Jove  unfeign'd  ! 

Divine  Instructor !  thy  first  volume,  this, 

For  man's  perusal;  all  in  capitals!  16G0 

In  moon,  and  stars  (heaven's  golden  alphabet !) 

Emblazed  to  seize  the  sight ;  who  runs  may  read  ; 

Who  reads,  can  understand.     'Tis  unconfined 

To  Christian  land,  or  Jewry  ;  fairly  writ, 

In  language  universal,  to  mankind  ;  1665 

A  language,  lofty  to  the  learn'd  ;  yet  plain 

To  those  that  feed  the  flock,  or  guide  the  plough, 

Or,  from  its  husk,  strike  out  the  bounding  grain. 

A  language,  worthy  the  Great  Mind  that  speaks ! 

Preface  and  comment,  to  the  sacred  page!  1670 

Which  oft  refers  its  reader  to  the  skies, 

As  presupposing  his  first  lesson  there, 

And  Scripture  'self  a  fragment,  that  unread. 

Stupendous  book  of  wisdom,  to  the  wise  ! 

Stupendous  book!  and  open'd,  Night !  by  thee.  1675 

WHERE  IS  THE  CREATOR'S  THRONE  ? 

By  thee  much  open'd,  I  confess,  O  Night ! 
Yet  more  I  wish  ;  but  how  shall  I  prevail ! 
Say,  gentle  Night !  whose  modest,  maiden  beams 
Give  us  a  new  creation,  and  present 

The  world's  great  picture  soften'd  to  the  sight;  1650 

Nay,  kinder  far,  far  more  indulgent  still, 

657.  Jove:  Jupiter,  the  chief  god  of  the  Romans;  the  same  as  the  Zeus 
of  the  Greeks. 

1664.  Jewry:  Judea.     Dan.  v.  13. 

1673.   That  unread:  The  first  volume,  or  the  book  of  Nature,  being  un- 
read, unobserved. 

1675.  And  opened,  &c. :  We  discover  more  of  the  distant  wonders  of  crea- 
tion by  night  than  in  the  day-time:  were  it  not  for  the  night,  vastly  the 
greater  part  of  them  could  not  be  discovered  by  us  at  all,  in  consequence  of 
the  blaze  of  sunlight. 
21 


482  TIT™    CONSOLATION. 

Say,  thou,  whose  mild  dominion's  silver  key 

Unlocks  our  hemisphere,  and  sets  to  view 

Worlds  beyond  number ;  worlds  conceal'd  by  day, 

Behind  the  proud  and  envious  star  of  noon  !  1685 

Canst  thou  not  draw  a  deeper  scene  ? — and  shew 

The  mighty  Potentate,  to  whom  belong 

These  rich  regalia,  pompously  display'd 

To  kindle  that  high  hope  ?     Like  him  of  Uz, 

I  gaze  around  ;  I  search  on  every  side —  1000 

O  for  a  glimpse  of  Him  my  soul  adores  ! 

As  the  chased  hart,  amid  the  desert  waste, 

Pants  for  the  living  stream ;  for  Him  who  made  her, 

So  pants  the  thirsty  soul,  amid  the  blank 

Of  sublunary  joys.     Say,  goddess  !  where?  1G95 

Where,  blazes  His  bright  court  1     Where  burns  His  throne  ? 

Thou  know'st ;  for  thou  art  near  Him ;  by  thee,  round 

His  grand  pavilion,  sacred  fame  reports 

The  sable  curtain  drawn.     If  not,  can  none 

Of  thy  fair  daughter-train,  so  swift  of  wing,  lYOO 

Who  travel  far,  discover  where  He  dwells  ? 

A  star  His  dwelling  pointed  out  below. 

Ye  Pleiades  !  Arcturus !  Mazzaroth  ! 

And  thou,  Orion  !  of  still  keener  eye  ! 

Say  ye,  Avho  guide  the  wilder'd  in  the  waves,  lTOt 

1685.  Envious  star  of  noon:  The  sun,  here  represented  as  a  person  envi- 
ously concealing  by  his  effulgence  the  other  glories  of  the  sky,  that  he 
might  have  our  undivided  admiration. 

]G89.  Him  of  Uz  :  Job.  ':  Oh  that  I  knew  where  I  might  find  him,  that 
I  might  even  come  to  his  seat/'  &c.    Job  xxiii.  3,  8,  9. 

1692.  Jls  the  chased  hart,  &c. :  Psalm  lxiii. 

1695.  Goddess:  Night. 

1698.  Sacred  fame,  &c. :  Psalm  xviii. 

1700.  Daughter-train:  Comets. 

1702.  A  star,  &c. :  Matthew  ii.  2. 

1703-4.  Yc  Pleiades,  &c. :  Names  of  several  constellations  mentioned  in 
the  book  of  Job,  chap,  xxxviii.  31,  32. 

1705.  The  wider1  d :  Thnsp  who  have  lo«t  their  track. 


NIGHT    IX.  483 

And  bring  them  out  of  tempest  into  port ! 

On  which  hand  must  I  bend  my  course  to  find  Him  ? 

These  courtiers  keep  the  secret  of  their  King ; 

I  wake  whole  nights,  in  vain,  to  steal  it  from  them. 

I  wake  ;  and,  waking,  climb  Xight's  radiant  scale,  IT  10 

From  sphere  to  sphere ;  the  steps  by  nature  set 
For  man's  ascent ;  at  once  to  tempt,  and  aid  ; 
To  tempt  his  eye,  and  aid  his  towering  thought ; 
Till  it  arrives  at  the  great  goal  of  all. 

A  JOURXEY  THROUGH  THE  HEAVEX3. 

In  ardent  contemplation's  rapid  car,  1715 

From  earth,  as  from  my  barrier,  I  set  out. 
How  swift  I  mount !     Diminish'd  earth  recedes  ; 
I  pass  the  moon ;  and,  from  her  farther  side, 
Pierce  heav'n's  blue  curtain ;  strike  into  remote  ; 
"Where,  with  his  lifted  tube,  the  subtile  sage  IV'20 

His  artificial,  airy  journey  tab 
And  to  celestial  lengthens  human  sight. 
I  pause  at  every  planet  on  my  road, 
And  ask  for  Him  who  gives  their  orbs  to  roll, 
Their  foreheads  fair  to  shine.     From  Saturn's  ring,  1725 

In  which,  of  earths  an  army  might  be  lost, 
With  the  bold  comet  take  my  bolder  flight, 
Amid  those  sovereign  glories  of  the  skies, 
Of  independent,  native  lustre  proud  ; 

The  souls  of  systems  !  and  the  lords  of  life,  1730 

Through  their  wide  empires  ! — What  behold  I  now  ? 
A  wilderness  of  wonders  burning  round  ; 

1710.  Scale:  Ladder. 

1714.  Goal:  The  end,  the  object  aimed  at;  alluding  to  the  terminating 
point  of  a  race-course,  and  implying,  therefore,  active  exertion  as  being  used 
in  reaching  it. 

1720.  Tube :  The  telescope. 

1730.  The  souls  of  systems :  The  suns  from  which  planetary  systems  de- 
rivp  thpir  light,  and  life,  and  motion   (subordinate!}'  to  T>ivir;p  asjoncv) 


484  THE    CONSOLATION. 

Where  Larger  suns  inhabit  larger  spheres  ; 

Perhaps  the  villas  of  descending  gods  ! 

Nor  halt  I  here  ;  my  toil  is  but  begun  ;  1735 

'Tis  but  the  threshold  of  the  Deity  ; 

Or,  far  beneath  it,  I  am  grovelling  still. 

Nor  is  it  strange ;  I  built  on  a  mistake ! 

The  grandeur  of  his  works,  whence  folly  sought 

For  aid,  to  reason  sets  his  glory  higher ;  1740 

Who  built  thus  high  for  worms  (mere  worms  to  Him ;) 

O  where,  Lorenzo  !  must  the  Builder  dwell  ? 

Pause,  then  ;  and,  for  a  moment,  here  respire — 
If  human  thought  can  koep  its  station  here. 
Where  am  I? — Where  is  earth? — Nay,  where  art  thou,    1745 
O  sun  ? — Is  the  sun  turn'd  recluse  ? — And  are 
His  boasted  expeditions  short  to  mine  ? — 
To  mine,  how  short !     On  nature's  Alps  I  stand, 
And  see  a  thousand  firmaments  beneath  ! 
A  thousand  systems,  as  thousand  grains!  1750 

So  much  a  stranger,  and  so  late  arriv'd, 
How  can  man's  curious  spirit  not  inquire, 
What  are  the  natives  of  this  world  sublime, 

1733.  Inhabit  larger  spheres :  Occupy  a  higher  position.  The  phraseology 
is  obsolete,  being  borrowed  from  the  Ptolemaic  astronomy,  long  since  ex- 
ploded. 

1734.  Perhajis  the  villas.  &c. :  A  tasteful  writer.  Mrs.  Ellis,  says  that  the 
idea  of  ''descending  gods"  requiring  "  villas,"  or  half-way  houses  to  halt  at, 
is  wholly  unworthy  of  the  dignity  of  the  author  of  "  Night  Thoughts." 
But  she  mistakes  the  author's  idea,  which  was,  that  these  might  be  the  tem- 
porary residences  of  angels  in  their  descent  to  our  earth.  The  idea  of  halt- 
ing there  related  to  the  poet  and  not  to  angels.  But  what  is  there  unbe- 
coming the  dignity  of  our  poet,  in  intimating  that  perhcrps  the  angels  occa- 
sionally took  up  their  abode  in  those  magnificent  luminaries,  the  centres  of 
planetary  systems  1 

1736.  The  threshold  (of  the  palace)  of  the  Deity :  Or  the  entrance  to  his 
vast  dominions,  the  far  greater  part  of  which  lie  beyond,  and  yet  unex- 
plored. 

1748.   On  nature's  Alps :   On  nature's  highest  eminence,  &c. 


NIGHT    IX.  485 

Of  this  so  foreign,  unterrestrial  sphere, 

Where  mortal,  untranslated,  never  stray'd?  1755 

THE    INHABITANTS    OF    OTHER    WORLDS    INTERROGATED. 

'  0  ye,  as  distant  from  my  little  home, 
As  swiftest  sun-beams  in  an  age  can  fly ! 
Far  from  my  native  element  I  roam, 
In  quest  of  new,  and  wonderful,  to  man. 
What  province  this,  of  His  immense  domain,  1760 

Whom  all  obey  ?     Or  mortals  here,  or  gods  ? 
Ye  bord'rers  on  the  coast  of  bliss !  what  are  you  ? 
A  colony  from  heav'n  ?     Or,  only  raised, 
By  frequent  visit  from  heav'n's  neighbouring  realms, 
To  secondary  gods,  and  half  divine  ? —  1*765 

Whate'er  your  nature,  this  is  past  dispute, 
Far  other  life  you  live,  far  other  tongue 
You  talk,  far  other  thought,  perhaps,  you  think, 
Than  man.     How  various  are  the  works  of  God  ! 
But  say,  What  thought  ?     Is  reason  here  enthroned,         17*70 
And  absolute  ?  or  sense  in  arms  against  her  ? 
Have  you  two  lights  ?     Or  need  you  no  reveal'd  ? 
Enjoy  your  happy  realms  their  golden  age  ? 

1772.  Two  lights :  Nature  and  Revelation. 

1773.  Golden  age:  Their  primitive  condition  of  felicity.  There  is  an 
allusion  to  the  fancies  of  the  classical  poets  who  divided  all  history  into 
four  periods  :  the  first,  or  golden  age,  when  there  was  an  eternal  spring,  and 
when  the  earth  spontaneously  poured  forth  her  harvests,  and  man 


"  vindice  nullo 


Sponte  sua  sine  lege  fidem  rectumque  colebat," 

was  coeval  with  the  reign  of  Saturn  upon  earth.  The  next,  or  silver  age, 
was  marked  by  the  change  of  seasons,  and  the  division  and  cultivation  of 
lands.     The  third,  or  brazen  age,  is  described  as 

•  Soevior  ingeniis,  et  ad  horrida  promptior  anna ; 
N6c  scelerats  tamen." 

And  then  came  the  last,  or  iron  age,  full  of  all  sorts  of  hardships  and 
wickedness,  which  slill  continues  (Ovidii  Metamorp.  i.  SI),  Sec.) — Brande. 


486  THE    CONSOLATION 

And  had  your  Eden  an  abstemious  Eve  ? 

Our  Eve's  fair  daughters  prove  their  pedigree,  1775 

And  ask  their  Adams — '  Who  would  not  be  wise  V 

Or,  if  your  mother  fell,  are  you  redeem'd  ? 

And  if  redeem'd — is  your  Redeemer  scorn'd  ? 

Is  this  your  final  residence  ?     If  not, 

Change  you  your  scene,  translated  ?  or  by  death  ?  1780 

And  if  by  death,  what  death  ? — Know  you  disease  ? 

Or  horrid  war  ? — With  war,  this  fatal  hour, 

Europa  groans  (so  call  we  a  small  field, 

Where  kings  run  mad.)     In  our  world,  death  deputes 

Intemperance  to  do  the  work  of  ages ;  1785 

And,  hanging  up  the  quiver  nature  gave  him, 

As  slow  of  execution,  for  despatch 

Sends  forth  imperial  butchers ;  bids  them  slay 

Their  sheep  (the  silly  sheep  they  fleeced  before,) 

And  toss  him  twice  ten  thousand  at  a  meal.  1790 

Sit  all  your  executioners  on  thrones  ? 

With  you,  can  rage  for  plunder  make  a  god  ? 

And  bloodshed  wash  out  ev'ry  other  stain  ? 

But  you,  perhaps,  can't  bleed :  from  matter  gross 

Your  spirits  clean,  are  delicately  clad  1795 

In  fine-spun  ether,  privileged  to  soar, 

Unloaded,  uninfected ;  how  unlike 

The  lot  of  man  !     How  few  of  human  race 

By  their  own  mud  unmurder'd  !     How  we  wage 

Self-war  eternal ! — Is  your  painful  day  1800 

1780.  Translated :  Conveyed  or  transported,  as  Enoch  was,  without  suf- 
fering death,  Gen.  v.  24  ;  Heb.  xi.  5. 

1783.  Europa :  Europe. 

17S8.  Imperial  butchers :  Such  as  Alexander,  Caesar,  Napoleon. 

1792.  Make  a  god:  As  in  the  case  of  Alexander,  and  others — that  is, 
their  admirers  or  flatterers  assigned  them  a  place  among  the  gods. 

1796.  Ether  :  Subtle  matter,  thinner  than  the  atmosphere. 

1799  By  their  own  mud:  A  disparaging  epithet,  equivalent  to  clay,  dust, 
and  means  the  same  as  fellow-creature,  all  being  alike  made  of  the  dust  of 
the  earth. 


NIGHT    IX.  4S7 

Of  hardy  conflict  o'er  ?  or,  aro  you  still 

Raw  candidates  at  school  ?     And  have  you  those 

Who  disaffect  reversions,  as  with  us  ? — 

But  what  are  we  ?     You  never  heard  of  man  ; 

Or  earth ;  the  bedlam  of  the  universe  !  1 8U5 

Where  reason  (undiseased  with  you)  runs  mad, 

And  nurses  Folly's  children  as  her  own ; 

Fond  of  the  foulest.     In  the  sacred  mount 

Of  holiness,  where  reason  is  pronounced 

Infallible,  and  thunders,  like  a  god  ;  1810 

E'en  there,  by  saints,  the  demons  are  outdone ; 

What  these  think  wrong,  our  saints  refine  to  right ; 

And  kindly  teach  dull  hell  her  own  black  arts : 

Satan,  instructed,  o'er  their  morals  smiles. — 

But  this,  how  strange  to  you,  who  know  not  man  !  1815 

Has  the  least  rumour  of  our  race  arrived  ? 

Call'd  here  Elijah,  in  his  flaming  car  ? 

Past  by  you  the  good  Enoch,  on  his  road 

To  those  fair  fields,  whence  Lucifer  was  huiTd  ; 

Who  brush'd  perhaps,  your  sphere  in  his  descent,  1820 

Stain'd  your  pure  crystal  ether,  or  let  fall 

A  short  eclipse  from  his  portentous  shade  ? 

O,  that  that  fiend  had  lodged  on  some  broad  orb 

Athwart  his  way  ;  nor  reach'd  his  present  home, 

Then  blacken'd  earth  with  footsteps  foul'd  in  hell,  1825 

Nor  wash'd  in  ocean,  as  from  Rome  he  past 

To  Britain's  isle  ;  too,  too  conspicuous  there !' 

1803.  Disaffect  reversions:  Disdain  a  prospective  inheritance,  alluding  to 
immortality. 

1805.  Bedlam :  Madhouse,  lunatic  asylum. 

1808.  Sacred  Mount,  Sec. :  The  Vatican  at  Rome. 

1811.  Saints:  Those  who  claim  to  be  such.     The  Jesuits  are  character- 
ized in  this  passage  with  not  too  great  severity. 

1817.  Elijah.  &c. :  2  Kings  ii.  11. 

ISIS.  Enoch,  &c:  Gen.  v.  2-1 

1819.  Lucifer:  Satan. 

1S26.  Nor  washed,  &c. :  And  not  washed. 


488  THE    CONSOLATION. 


THE    QUESTION    RESUMED WIIERE    IS    THE    CREATOR'S    THRONE? 

But  this  is  all  digression.     Where  is  He, 
That  o'er  heavVs  battlements  the  felon  hurl'd 
To  groans,  and  chains,  and  darkness  ?     Where  is  He,        1830 
Who  sees  creation's  summit  in  a  vale  ? 
He,  whom,  while  man  is  man,  he  can't  but  seek  ; 
And  if  he  finds,  commences  more  than  man  ? 
0  for  a  telescope  His  throne  to  reach  ! 

Tell  me,  ye  learn'd  on  earth,  or  blest  above !  1835 

Ye  searching,  ye  Newtonian  angels — tell, 
Where  your  great  Master's  orb  ?     His  planets  where  ? 
Those  conscious  satellites,  those  morning  stars, 
First-born  of  Deity  !  from  central  love, 

By  veneration  most  profound,  thrown  off;  1840 

By  sweet  attraction,  no  less  strongly  drawn, 
Awed,  and  yet  raptured  ;  raptured,  yet  serene  ; 
Past  thought  illustrious,  but  with  borrow'd  beams ; 
In  still  approaching  circles,  still  remote, 

Revolving  round  the  sun's  eternal  Sire  ?  1845 

Or  sent,  in  lines  direct,  on  embassies 
To  nations — in  what  latitude  ? — Beyond 
Terrestrial  thought's  horizon  ! — And  on  what 
High  errands  sent  ? — Here  human  effort  ends ; 
And  leaves  me  still  a  stranger  to  His  throne.  1850 

Full  well  it  might !     I  quite  mistook  my  road  ; 
Born  in  an  age,  more  curious  than  devout ; 
More  fond  to  fix  the  place  of  heaven,  or  hell, 
Than  studious  this  to  shun,  or  that  secure. 
'Tis  not  the  curious,  but  the  pious  path,  1855 

1832.  He  can't,  &c. :  Man  can't  but  seek. 

1S3S.  Morning  stars:  The  holy  angels. 

1S40-41.  Thrown  off — drawn:  Expressions  borrowed  from  astronomy 
alluding  to  the  centrifugal  and  centripetal  forces  which  govern  the  revolu 
tiou  of  the  satellite  around  its  primary. 

1S43.  Illustrious  :   Luminous,  bright. 


NIGHT    IX.  48'J 

That  leads  me  to  my  point :  Lorenzo  !  know, 

AYithout  or  star,  or  angel,  for  their  guide, 

Who  worship  God,  shall  rind  him.     Humble  love, 

And  not  proud  reason,  keeps  the  door  of  heaven  ; 

Love  finds  admission,  where  proud  science  fails.  1860 

Man's  science  is  the  culture  of  his  heart ; 

And  not  to  lose  his  plummet  in  the  depths 

Of  nature,  or  the  more  profound  of  God. 

Either  to  know,  is  an  attempt  that  sets 

The  wisest  on  a  level  with  the  fool.  1865 

To  fathom  nature,  (ill  attempted  here  !) 

Past  doubt,  is  deep  philosophy  above ; 

Higher  degrees  in  bliss  \rchangels  take, 

As  deeper  learn'd  ;  the  deepest,  learning  still. 

For,  what  a  thunder  of  Omnipotence  1870 

(So  might  I  dare  to  speak)  is  seen  in  all ! 

In  man  !  in  earth  !  in  more  amazing  skies  ! 

Teaching  this  lesson,  pride  is  loth  to  learn 

Not  deeply  to  discern,  not  much  to  know, 
Mankind  was  born  to  wonder,  and  adore.'  1875 

THE    RELIGIOUS    DEVOTION    OF    OTHER    WORLDS. 

And  is  there  cause  for  higher  wonder  still, 
Than  that  which  struck  us  from  our  past  surveys  ? 
Yes  ;  and  for  deeper  adoration  too. 
From  my  late  airy  travel  unconfined, 

Have  I  learn'd  nothing ? — Yes,  Lorenzo;  this:  1880 

Each  of  these  stars  is  a  religious  house ; 
I  saw  their  altars  smoke,  their  incense  rise ; 
And  heard  hosannas  ring  through  every  sphere, 
A  seminary  fraught  with  future  gods. 

1863.  The  more  prof  ound :  The  deeper  depths. 

1S70.  What  a  thunder  of  Omnipotence:  What  an  impressive  demonstra- 
tion of  Omnipotence,  thunder  (with  lightning)  being  one  of  the  most 
impressive  manifestations  of  power. 

1884.  Future  gods:  Future  beings  of  a  superhuman  order,  and  of  a;»  ex- 
21* 


490  THE    CONSOLATION1. 

Nature,  all  o'er,  is  consecrated  ground,  1885 

Teeming  with  growths  immortal,  and  divine. 

The  great  Proprietor's  all-bounteous  hand 

Leaves  nothing  waste ;  but  sows  these  fiery  fields 

With  seeds  of  reason,  which  to  virtues  rise 

Beneath  his  genial  ray  ;  and,  if  escaped  1890 

The  pestilential  blasts  of  stubborn  will, 

When  grown  mature,  are  gather'd  for  the  skies. 

And  is  devotion  thought  too  much  on  earth, 

When  beings,  so  superior,  homage  boast, 

And  triumph  in  prostrations  to  the  Throne  ?  1895 

REVIEW"  OF  THE  NOCTURNAL  LANDSCAPE. 

But  wherefore  more  of  planets,  or  of  stars  ? 
Ethereal  journeys,  and,  discover'd  there, 
Ten  thousand  worlds,  ten  thousand  ways  devout, 
All  nature  sending  incense  to  the  Throne, 
Except  the  bold  Lorenzos  of  our  sphere  ?  1900 

Opening  the  solemn  sources  of  my  soul, 
Since  I  have  pour'd,  like  feign'd  Eridanus, 
My  flowing  numbers  o'er  the  flaming  skies, 
Nor  see,  of  fancy,  or  of  fact,  what  more 

Invites  the  muse here  turn  we,  and  review  1905 

Our  past  nocturnal  landscape  wide  : — then  say, 

Say,  then,  Lorenzo !  with  what  burst  of  heart, 

The  whole,  at  once,  revolving  in  his  thought, 

Must  man  exclaim,  adoring,  and  aghast  ? 

*  O  what  a  root!  O  what  a  branch,  is  here  !  1910 

O  what  a  Father  !  what  a  family  ! 

Worlds  !  systems  !  and  creations  ! — and  creations, 

In  one  agglomerated  cluster,  hung. 

alted  moral  character:  the  term  gods  being  used  very  frequently  by  oui 
author  in  this  secondary  and  moderate  sense. 

1002.  Feign'd  Eridanus:  This  is  the  Oreek  name  of  the  liver  Po   in 
Italy,  ar.d  the  name  of  a  winding  constellation  in  the  southern  hemisphere. 


NIGHT    IS.  491 

Great  Vino !  on  Thee,  on  Thee  the  cluster  hangs  ; 

The  filial  cluster  !  infinitely  spread  1915 

In  glowing  globes,  with  various  being  fraught ; 

And  drinks  (nectareous  draught !)  immortal  life. 

Or,  shall  I  say,  (for  who  can  say  enough  ') 

A  constellation  of  ten  thousand  gems. 

(And,  O  !  of  what  dimensions  !  cf  what  weight !)  1920 

Set  in  one  signet,  flames  on  the  right  hand 

Of  Majesty  Divine  !  the  blazing  seal, 

That  deeply  stamps,  on  all-created  mind, 

Indelible,  his  sovereign  attributes, 

Omnipotence,  and  love  !  that,  passing  bound  ;  1925 

And  th  sing  that.     Nor  stop  we  here, 

For  want  of  power  in  God,  but  thought  in  man. 

E'en  this  acknowledged,  leaves  us  still  in  debt: 

If  greater  aught,  that  greater  all  is  thine, 

Dread  Sire  '. — Accept  this  miniature  of  Thee;  1930 

And  pardon  an  attempt  from  mortal  thought, 

In  which  archangels  might  have  fail'd,  unblamed.' 

How  such  ideas  of  th'  Almighty's  power, 
And  such  ideas  of  the  Almighty's  plan, 

(Ideas  not  absurd,)  distend  the  thought  1935 

Of  feeble  mortals  !     Nor  of  them  alone  ! 
The  fulness  of  the  Deity  breaks  forth 
In  inconceivables  to  men,  and  gods. 

1914.  Great  Vine:  Jesus  Christ.  John  xv.  i. 

1915.  The  filial  cluster:  The  cluster  cf  sons — the  collection  of  similar  and 
harmonious  worlds.  The  word  cluster  is  used  in  correspondence  with  the 
figure  of  the  vine  on  which  they  hang. 

1919.  G««s:  The  figure  from  a  cluster  hanging  on  a  vine,  is  here 
changed  to  numberless  gems  glittering  in  the  signet  ring  which  adorns  the 
right  hand  of  Majesty  Divine.  An  allusion  is  here  made,  perhaps,  to  the 
seal  used  by  the  king  or  queen  of  England  in  sealing  private  letters  or  grants 
in  accordance  with  parliamentary  bills. 

The  seal,  in  the  text,  is  very  properly  represented  as  marked  with  the 
attributes  of  Omnipotence  and  Love. 

193S.  lncrmceivaMcs :  Things  inconceivable. 


492  THE    CONSOLATION. 

Think,  then,  O  think  !  nor  ever  drop  the  thought ; 

How  low  must  man  descend,  when  gods  adore !  1940 

Have  I  not,  then,  accomplish'd  ray  proud  boast  ? 

Did  I  not  tell  thee,  '  We  would  mount,  Lorenzo  ! 

And  kindle  our  devotion  at  the  stars  V 

And  have  I  fail'd  ?  and  did  I  flatter  thee  « 
And  art  all  adamant  ?     And  dost  confute  1945 

All  urged,  with  one  irrefragable  smile  ? 
Lorenzo  !  mirth  how  miserable  here  ? 
Swear  by  the  stars,  by  Him  who  made  them,  swear, 
Thy  heart,  henceforth,  shall  be  as  pure  as  they : 
Then  thou,  like  them,  shalt  shine  ;  like  them,  shalt  rise     1950 
From  low  to  lofty  ;  from  obscure  to  bright ; 
By  due  gradation,  nature's  sacred  law. 
The  stars,  from  whence  ? — Ask  Chaos — he  can  tell. 
These  bright  temptations  to  idolatry, 

From  darkness,  and  confusion,  took  their  birth  ;  1955 

Sons  of  deformity  !  from  fluid  dregs 
Tartarean,  first  they  rose  to  masses  rude ; 
And  then,  to  spheres  opaque ;  then  dimly  shone ; 
Then  brighten'd  ;  then  blazed  out  in  perfect  day. 

1945.  And  art  (thou) ,  &c.     And  dost  (thou)  confute. 
1956-57.  From  fluid  dregs  Tartarean :  Our  author  here  obviously  bor- 
rows from  Milton,  as  in  a  former  instance  cited : 

Darkness  profound 
Cover'd  th'  abyss ;  but  on  the  ivat'ry  calm 
His  brooding  wings  the  Spirit  of  God  outspread, 
And  vital  virtue  infused,  and  vital  warmth 
Throughout  the.  fluid  mass,  but  downward  purged 
The  black  Tartarcous  cold  infernal  dregs 
Adverse  to  life:  then  founded,  then  conglobed 
Like  things  to  like,  the  rest  to  sev'ral  place 
Disparted,  &c. — Paradise  Lost,  Book  VII.,  233—241. 

So,  in  describing  a  subsequent  process  of  the  creation,  the  poet  says 
For,  of  celestial  bodies,  first  the  sun, 
A  mighty  sphere,  he  framed,  unlightsome  first, 
Though  of  ethereal  mould  :  then  form'd  the  moon 
Globose,  and  ev'ry  magnitude  of  stars, 
And  sow'd  with  stars  the  Hcav^  thick  as  a  field : 
Of  light,  &c— Paradise  Lost,  Book,  VII,  304—359. 


NIGHT    IX.  493 

Nature  delights  in  progress;  in  advance  1000 

From  worse  to  better  :  but,  when  minds  ascend, 

Progress,  in  part,  depends  upon  themselves. 

Heaven  aids  exertion  ;  greater  makes  the  great ; 

The  voluntary  little  lessens  more. 

O  be  a  man  !  and  thou  shalt  be  a  god  !  1965 

And  half  self-made  ! — Ambition  how  divine  ! 

ADDRESS    TO    KE    l"XDEVOUT. 

0  thou,  ambitious  of  disgrace  alone ! 
Still  undevout  \  unkindled  \ — Though  high  taught, 
School'd  by  the  skies,  and  pupil  of  the  stars ; 
Rank  coward  to  the  fashionable  world  !  1970 

Art  thou  ashamed  to  bend  thy  knee  to  Heaven  \ 
Cursed  fume  of  pride,  exhaled  from  deepest  hell ! 
Pride  in  religion,  is  mans  highest  praise. 
Bent  on  destruction  !  and  in  love  with  death ! 
Not  all  these  luminaries,  quenelrd  at  once,  1975 

Were  half  so  sad,  as  one  benighted  mind, 
Which  gropes  for  happiness,  and  meets  despair. 
How,  like  a  widow  in  her  weeds,  the  Night, 
Amid  her  glimmering  tapers,  silent  sits ! 
How  sorrowful,  how  desolate,  she  weeps  1980 

Perpetual  dews,  and  saddens  nature's  scene  ! 
A  scene  more  sad  sin  makes  the  darken' d  soul, 
All  comfort  kills,  nor  leaves  one  spark  alive. 

1963-64.  Greater  (exertion)  makes  the  great  (or  great  minds).  The  volun- 
tary little  (exertion)  lessens  more :  Tends  more  to  contract  the  mind  than 
great  exertions  tend  to  enlarge  it. 

1973.  Pride  in  religion  is.  &c. :  Our  author  does  not  mean  to  say  that 
religious  pride  is  praiseworthy,  but  that  a  great  and  unconcealed  delight  in 
the  duties  of  religion  is  the  highest  praise  of  man. 

1974.  Love  death:  Borrowed  from  Proverbs  viii.  36,  "He  that  sinneth 
against  me  ('wisdom,  or  true  religion),  wrongeth  his  own  soul :  all  they 
that  hate  me  love  death.'"' 

1975.  Like  a  widow,  &c. :  What  a  beautifully  touching  comparison  have 
we  here ! 


494 


THE    CONSOLATION. 


WHAT    THE    GRANDEUR    OF    THE    UNIVERSE    TEACHES. 


Though  blind  of  heart,  still  open  is  thine  eye  : 
Why  such  magnificence  in  all  thou  seest  ?  1985 

Of  matter's  grandeur,  know,  one  end  is  this, 
To  tell  the  rational,  who  gazes  on  it — 
'  Though  that  immensely  great,  still  greater  he, 
Whose  breast  capacious,  can  embrace,  and  lodge, 
Unburden'd,  nature's  universal  scheme;  1990 

Can  grasp  creation  with  a  single  thought ; 
Creation  grasp  ;  and  not  exclude  its  Sire' — 
To  tell  him  farther — '  It  behoves  him  much 
To  guard  th'  important,  yet  depending,  fate 
Of  being,  brighter  than  a  thousand  suns:  1995 

One  single  ray  of  thought  outshines  them  all.' 
And  if  man  hears  obedient,  soon  he'll  soar 
Superior  heights,  and  on  his  purple  wing, 
His  purple  wing  bedropp'd  with  eyes  of  gold, 
Rising,  where  thought  is  now  denied  to  rise,  2000 

Look  down  triumphant  on  these  dazzling  spheres. 

Why  then  persist  ? — No  mortal  ever  lived, 
But  dying,  he  pronounced  (when  words  are  true) 
The  whole  that  charms  thee,  absolutely  vain ; 
Vain,  and  far  worse ! — Think  thou,  with  dying  men  ;         2005 
O  condescend  to  think  as  angels  think ! 
O  tolerate  a  chance  for  happiness  ! 
Our  nature  such,  ill  choice  ensures  ill  fate  ; 
And  hell  had  been,  though  there  had  been  no  God. 
Dost  thou  not  know,  my  new  astronomer !  2010 

Earth,  turning  from  the  sun,  brings  night  to  man  ? 
Man,  turning  from  his  God,  brings  endless  night, 
Where  thou  canst  read  no  morals,  find  no  friend, 

1988.  He:  That  is,  man. 

1994-95.  Fate  of  being:  Destined  condition  or  state  of  existence. 
2011.  The  author,  in  the   next  line,  makes  an  admirable  use  of  this  cir- 
eumstance. 


NIGHT    IX.  495 

Amend  no  manners,  and  expect  no  peace. 

How  deep  the  darkness  !  and  the  groan,  how  loud!  2015 

And  far,  how  far,  from  lambent  are  the  flames  ! — ■ 

Such  is  Lorenzo's  purchase  !  such  his  praise  ! 

The  proud,  the  politic  Lorenzo's  praise ! 

Though  in  his  ear,  and  levell'd  at  his  heart, 

I've  half  read  o'er  the  volume  of  the  skies.  2020 

THE    VOICE    OF    NATURE. 

For  think  not  thou  hast  heard  all  this  from  me ; 
My  song  but  echoes  what  great  nature  speaks. 
What  has  she  spoken  ?     Thus  the  goddess  spoke, 
Thus  speaks  for  ever  : — '  Place  at  nature's  head, 
A  Sovereign,  which  o'er  all  things  rolls  his  eye,  2025 

Extends  his  wing,  promulgates  his  commands, 
But,  above  all,  diffuses  endless  good : 
To  whom,  for  sure  redress,  the  wrong'd  may  fly ; 
Tbe  vile,  for  mercy  ;  and  the  pain'd,  for  peace  : 
By  whom,  the  various  tenants  of  these  spheres,  2030 

Diversified  in  fortunes,  place,  and  powers, 
Raised  in  enjoyment,  as  in  worth  they  rise, 
Arrive  at  length  (if  worthy  such  approach) 
At  that  bless'd  fountain-head,  from  which  they  stream ; 
Where  conflict  past  redoubles  present  joy  ;  2035 

And  present  joy  looks  forward  on  increase ; 
And  that,  on  more  ;  no  period  !  every  step 
A  double  boon  !  a  promise,  and  a  bliss.' 
How  easy  sits  this  scheme  on  human  hearts . 
It  suits  their  make  ;  it  sooths  their  vast  desires  ;  2040 

Passion  is  pleased,  and  reason  asks  no  more ; 
'Tis  rational !  'tis  great ! — But  what  is  thine  ? 
It  darkens  !  shocks  !  excruciates  !  and  confounds ! 
Leaves  us  quite  naked,  both  of  help,  and  hope, 
Sinking  from  bad  to  worse  ;  few  years,  the  sport  2045 

Of  fortune ;  then,  the  morsel  of  despair. 

901G.  lambent:  Playful,  harmless. 


496  THE    CONSOLATION. 


THE    FOLLY    OF    VICE    AND    IRRELIGION. 

Say,  then,  Lorenzo,  (for  thou  know'st  it  well,) 
What's  vice  ? — Mere  want  of  compass  in  our  thought. 
Religion,  what  ? — The  proof  of  common  sense. 
How  art  thou  hooted,  where  the  least  prevails !  2050 

Is  it  my  fault,  if  these  truths  call  thee  fool  ? 
And  thou  shalt  never  be  miscall'd  by  me. 
Can  neither  shame,  nor  terror,  stand  thy  friend  ? 
And  art  thou  still  an  insect  in  the  mire  ? 

How,  like  thy  guardian  angel,  have  I  flown ;  2055 

Snatch'd  thee  from  earth ;  escorted  thee  through  all 
Th'  ethereal  armies ;  walk'd  thee,  like  a  god, 
Through  splendours  of  first  magnitude,  arranged 
On  either  hand ;  clouds  thrown  beneath  thy  feet ; 
Close  cruised  on  the  bright  paradise  of  God ;  2060 

And  almost  introduced  thee  to  the  Throne ! 
And  art  thou  still  carousing,  for  delight, 
Rank  poison  ;  first,  fermenting  to  mere  froth, 
And  then  subsiding  into  final  gall  ? 

To  beings  of  sublime,  immortal  make,  2065 

How  shocking  is  all  joy,  whose  end  is  sure ! 
Such  joy,  more  shocking  still,  the  more  it  charms ! 
And  dost  thou  choose  what  ends,  ere  well  begun  ; 
And  infamous,  as  short  ?     And  dost  thou  choose 
(Thou,  to  whose  palate  glory  is  so  sweet)  2070 

To  wade  into  perdition,  through  contempt, 
Not  of  poor  bigots  only,  but  thy  own  ? 
For  I  have  peep'd  into  thy  cover'd  heart, 
And  seen  it  blush  beneath  a  boastful  brow ; 
For,  by  strong  guilt's  most  violent  assault,  2075 

Conscience  is  but  disabled,  not  destroy'd. 

O  thou  most  awful  being,  and  most  vain  ! 
Thy  will,  how  frail !  how  glorious  is  thy  power ! 

2077.  Most  awful  being :  Man  is  so  from  the  power  which  he  possesses 
(2078-81). 


night  ix.  497 

Though  dread  eternity  has  sown  her  seeds 

Of  bliss,  and  wo,  in  thy  despotic  breast ;  2080 

Though  heaven,  and  hell,  depend  upon  thy  choice ; 

A  butterfly  comes  "cross,  and  both  are  fled. 

Is  this  the  picture  of  a  rational  ? 

This  horrid  image,  shall  it  be  most  just  .' 

Lorenzo  !  no:  it  cannot — shall  not,  be,  2085 

If  there  is  force  in  reason  ;  or,  in  sounds, 

Chanted  beneath  the  glimpses  of  the  moon, 

A  magic,  at  this  planetary  hour, 

When  slumber  locks  the  general  lip,  and  dreams 

Through  senseless  mazes  hunt  souls  uninspired.  2090 

Attend — the  sacred  mysteries  begin 

My  solemn  night-born  adjuration  hear ; 
Hear,  and  I'll  raise  thy  spirit  from  the  dust ; 
While  the  stars  gaze  on  this  enchantment  new ; 
Enchantment,  not  infernal,  but  divine  !  2095 

SOLEMN    NIGHT-BORN    ADJURATION. 

'  By  Silence,  death's  peculiar  attribute  ; 
By  Darkness,  guilt's  inevitable  doom  ; 
By  Darkness,  and  by  Silence,  sisters  dread  ! 
That  draw  the  curtain  round  night's  ebon  throne, 
And  raise  ideas,  solemn  as  the  scene  !  2100 

By  Night,  and  all  of  awful,  night  presents 
To  thought,  or  sense,  (of  awful  much,  to  both, 
The  goddess  brings  !)     By  these  her  trembling  fires, 
Like  Vesta's,  ever  burning ;  and,  like  hers, 

20S3.  A  magic  :  A  mysterious  process  for  producing  extraordinary  effects. 

2092.  Adjuration:  Solemn  appeal, by  whick  one  person  lays  upon  another 
an  obligation  to  speak  or  act  in  a  certain  manner,  as  if  under  the  solemnity 
of  an  oath. 

2095.  Enchantment :  A  secret  process,  in  which  certain  agents,  real  or 
imaginary,  are  invoked  for  producing  singular  results. 

2103.  Fires:  The  stars. 

2104.  Like  Vesta's:  She  was  the  Pagan  deity  that   presided  over  the  do- 


498  THE    CONSOLATION. 

Sacred  to  thoughts  immaculate,  and  pure!  2105 

By  these  bright  orators,  that  prove,  and  praise, 

And  press  thee  to  revere,  the  Deity ; 

Perhaps,  too,  aid  thee,  when  revered  a  while, 

To  reach  his  throne  ;  as  stages  of  the  soul, 

Through  which,  at  different  periods,  she  shall  pass,  2110 

Refining  gradual,  for  her  final  height, 

And  purging  off  some  dross  at  every  sphere ! 

By  this  dark  pall  thrown  o'er  the  silent  world ! 

By  the  world's  kings,  and  kingdoms,  most  renown'd, 

From  short  ambition's  zenith  set  for  ever;  2115 

Sad  presage  to  vain  boasters,  now  in  bloom ! 

By  the  long  list  of  swift  mortality, 

From  Adam  downward  to  this  evening  knell, 

Which  midnight  waves  in  fancy's  startled  eye  ; 

And  shocks  her  with  a  hundred  centuries,  2120 

Round  death's  black  banner  throng'd,  in  human  thought ! 

By  thousands,  now,  resigning  their  last  breath, 

And  calling  thee — wert  thou  so  wise  to  hear ! 

By  tombs  o'er  tombs  arising  ;  human  earth 

Ejected,  to  make  room  for — human  earth  ;  2125 

The  monarch's  terror  !  and  the  sexton's  trade  ! 

By  pompous  obsequies,  that  shun  the  day, 

The  torch  funereal,  and  the  nodding  plume, 

Which  makes  poor  man's  humiliation  proud  ; 

Boast  of  our  ruin  !  triumph  of  our  dust!  2130 

By  the  damp  vault  that  weeps  o'er  royal  bones  ; 

And  the  pale  lamp,  that  shews  the  ghastly  dead, 

More  ghastly  through  the  thick  incumbent  gloom  ! 

By  visits  (if  there  arc)  from  darker  scenes, 

The  gliding  spectre  !  and  the  groaning  grave  !  2135 

By  groans,  and  graves,  and  miseries  that  groan 

mestic  hearth,  or  the  social  interests  of  the  family.  In  her  temple  at  Rome 
was  a  sacred  fire,  attended  by  six  virgins,  called  Vestals,  who  were  specially 
charged,  under  severe  penalties  to  preserve  the  sacred  flame  from  going  out. 
In  case  of  its  going  out  through  their  neglect,  it  was  rekindled  from  the 
rays  of  the  sun. 


NIGHT    IX.  409 

For  the  grave's  shelter !     By  desponding  men, 

Senseless  to  pains  of  death,  from  pangs  of  guilt ! 

By  guilt's  la^t  audit !     By  yon  moon  in  Mood, 

The  rocking  firmament,  the  falling  stars,  2140 

And  thunder's  last  discharge,  great  nature's  knell ! 

By  second  chaos  ;  and  eternal  night' — 

Be  wise — Xor  let  Philander  blame  my  charm  ; 

But  own  not  ill  discharged  my  double  debt, 

Love  to  the  living,  duty  to  the  dead.  2145 

For  know,  I'm  but  executor ;  he  left 
This  moral  legacy  ;  I  make  it  o'er 
By  his  command  :  Philander  hear  in  me, 
And  Heaven  in  both. — If  deaf  to  these,  oh !  hear 
Florello's  tender  voice  :  his  weal  depends  2150 

On  thy  resolve ;  it  trembles  at  thy  choice  : 
For  his  sake — love  thyself.     Example  strikes 
All  human  hearts  !  a  bad  example  more ; 
More  still  a  father's ;  that  ensures  his  ruin. 
As  parent  of  his  being,  wouldst  thou  prove  2155 

Th'  unnatural  parent  of  his  miseries, 
And  make  him  curse  the  being  which  thou  gavest ! 
Is  this  the  blessing  of  so  fond  a  father? 
If  careless  of  Lorenzo,  spare,  oh !  spare, 

Florello's  father,  and  Philander's  friend  !  2160 

Florello's  father  ruin'd,  ruins  him ; 
And  from  Philander's  friend  the  world  expects 
A  conduct,  no  dishonour  to  the  dead. 
Let  passion  do,  what  nobler  motives  should ; 
Let  love,  and  emulation,  rise  in  aid  21(35 

To  reason ;  and  persuade  thee  to  be — bless'd. 

This  seems  not  a  request  to  be  denied  ; 

2139.  Last  audit     Last  examination  or  reckoning  in  regard  to  the  cha- 
racter and  conduct  of  one's  past  life. 

2113.  Philander:   See  Night  I.  3S3-6  ;  434-7. 

2150.  Florello's  tender  voire:  He  was  the  young  son  of  Lorenzo  (2154-60) 

2164.   Passion  :   I  ove,  ardent  and  impulsive. 


500 


THE    CONSOLATION. 


Yet  (such  th'  infatuation  of  mankind !) 

'Tis  the  most  hopeless,  man  can  make  to  man. 

Shall  I,  then,  rise  in  argument,  and  warmth;  2170 

And  urge  Philander's  posthumous  advice, 

From  topics  yet  unbroach'd  1 

But,  oh  !  I  faint !  my  spirits  fail ! — Nor  strange  ! 

So  long  on  wing,  and  in  no  middle  clime  ! 

To  which  my  great  Creator's  glory  call'd  :  2175 

And  calls — but,  now,  in  vain.     Sleep's  dewy  wand 

Has  stroked  my  drooping  lids,  and  promises 

My  long  arrear  of  rest ;  the  downy  god 

(Wont  to  return  with  our  returning  peace) 

Will  pay,  ere  long,  and  bless  me  with  repose.  2180 

Haste,  haste,  sweet  stranger  !  from  the  peasant's  cot, 

The  ship-boy's  hammock,  or  the  soldier's  straw, 

Whence  sorrow  never  chased  thee :  with  thee  bring, 

Not  hideous  visions,  as  of  late ;  but  draughts 

Delicious  of  well-tasted,  cordial,  rest;  2185 

Man's  rich  restorative  ;  his  balmy  bath, 

That  supples,  lubricates,  and  keeps  in  play, 

The  various  movements  of  this  nice  machine, 

Which  asks  such  frequent  periods  of  repair. 

When  tired  with  vain  rotations  of  the  day,  2190 

Sleep  winds  us  up  for  the  succeeding  dawn ; 

Fresh  we  spin  on,  till  sickness  clogs  our  wheels, 

Or  death  quite  breaks  the  spring,  and  motion  ends. 

When  will  it  end  with  me  ? 


2174.  In  no  middle  dime :  So  Milton  characterizes  his  own  song: 

That  with  no  middle  flight  intends  to  soar 
Above  the  Aonian  mount,  while  it  pursues 
Things  unattempted  yet  in  prose  or  rhyme. 

2176.  Wand:  An  allusion  to  the  rod  used  by  jugglers  and  fortune-teller* 
in  performing  their  achievements.  Sleep  is  personified  as  the  "  drowsy  god" 
— the  god  of  sweet  repose. 

2188.  Nice  machine:  The  body  is  here  compared  to  a  clock  or  watch, 
which  statement  will  explain  many  terms  used  in  the  following  lines. 


NIGHT   IX.  501 


AN    ADDRESS    TO    THE    DEITY. 


-' Thou  only  know'st,  2195 


Thou,  whose  broad  eye  the  future,  and  the  past, 

Joins  to  the  present ;  making  one  of  three 

To  mortal  thought !     Thou  know'st,  and  Thou  alone, 

All-knowing! — all  unknown  ! — and  yet  well  known  ! 

Near,  though  remote  !  and,  though  unfathom'd,  felt !         2200 

And,  though  invisible,  for  ever  seen  ! 

And  seen  in  all !  the  great,  and  the  minute : 

Each  globe  above,  with  its  gigantic  race, 

Each  flower,  each  leaf,  with  its  small  people  swarm'd, 

(Those  puny  vouchers  of  Omnipotence  !)  2205 

To  the  first  thought,  that  asks,  '  From  whence  ?'  declare 

Their  common  Source.     Thou  Fountain,  running  o'er 

In  rivers  of  communicated  joy  ! 

"Who  gavest  us  speech  for  far,  far  humbler  themes  ! 

Say,  by  what  name  shall  I  presume  to  call  2210 

Him  I  see  burning  in  these  countless  suns, 

As  Moses,  in  the  bush?     Illustrious  Mind! 

The  whole  creation,  less,  far  less,  to  Thee, 

Than  that  to  the  creation's  ample  round. 

How  shall  I  name  Thee  ? — How  my  labouring  soul  2215 

Heaves  underneath  the  thought,  too  big  for  birth  ! 

'  Great  System  of  perfections  !     Mighty  Cause 
Of  causes  mighty !     Cause  uncaused  !     Sole  Root 
Of  nature,  that  luxuriant  growth  of  God ! 
First  Father  of  effects  !  that  progeny  22? is 

Of  endless  series ;  where  the  golden  chain's 

2199-2201.  Some  striking  contrasts  will  here  be  noticed  and  admired. 
The  description  of  the  Godhead  that  follows  is  uncommonly  sublime  and 
awe-inspiring,  altogether  worthy  of  the  sanctified  genius  of  the  poet. 

2203.   Gigantic  race :  Its  large  and  heavy  satellites — its  planets  or  moons. 

2212.  In  the  bush  :  See  Exod.  iii.  2.     Mind:  Jehovah. 

2214.  Ample  round:  The  boundless  space  that  stretches  on  evpry  hand 
bevond  the  limits  of  creation. 


502  THE    CONSOLATION. 

Last  link  admits  a  period,  who  can  tell? 

Father  of  all  that  is  or  heard,  or  hears ! 

Father  of  all  that  is  or  seen,  or  sees  ! 

Father  of  all  that  is,  or  shall  arise  !  2225 

Father  of  this  immeasurable  mass 

Of  matter  multiform  ;  or  dense,  or  rare ; 

Opaque,  or  lucid ;  rapid,  or  at  rest ; 

Minute,  or  passing  bound !  in  each  extreme, 

Of  like  amaze,  and  mystery,  to  man.  2230 

Father  of  these  bright  millions  of  the  night ! 

Of  which  the  least,  full  Godhead  had  proclaim'd, 

ind  thrown  the  gazer  on  his  knee — Or,  say, 

Is  appellation  higher  still,  Thy  choice  ? 

Father  of  matter's  temporary  lords!  2235 

Father  of  spirits  !  nobler  offspring !  sparks 

Of  high  paternal  glory ;  rich  endow'd 

With  various  measures,  and  with  various  modes 

Of  instinct,  reason,  intuition ;  beams 

More  pale,  or  bright  from  day  divine,  to  break  2240 

The  dark  of  matter  organized  (the  ware 

Of  all  created  spirit ;)  beams,  that  rise 

Each  over  other  in  superior  light, 

Till  the  last  ripens  into  lustre  strong, 

Of  next  approach  to  Godhead.     Father  fond  2245 

(Far  fonder  than  e'er  bore  that  name  on  earth) 

Of  intellectual  beings  !  beings  bless'd 

With  powers  to  please  Thee  ;  not  of  passive  ply 

To  laws  they  know  not ;  beings  lodged  in  seats 

Of  well-adapted  joys,  in  different  domes  2250 

Of  this  imperial  palace  for  thy  sons ; 

2222.  Period:  Termination. 

2223-24.   Or  heard :  Either  heard.     Or  seen :  Either  seen. 
2230.  Amaze :  Amazement. 

2241.  The  ware,  &c. :  The  material  upon  which  created  spirit  operates,  or 
the  instrument  it  employs. 

2248    Phi:  Inclinotion  or  bias 


nic;  Hi   ix.  508 

Of  this  proud,  populous,  well-policied, 

Though  boundless  habitation,  plann'd  by  Thee  : 

Whose  several  elans  their  several  climates  suit ; 

And  transposition,  doubtless,  would  destroy.  2255 

Or,  oh  !  indulge,  immortal  King !  indulge 

A  title,  less  august,  indeed,  but  more 

Endearing ;  ah  !  how  sweet  in  human  ears  ! 

Sweet  in  our  ears,  and  triumph  in  our  hearts ! 

Father  of  immortality  to  man!  2260 

A  theme  that  lately  set  my  soul  on  fire. — 

And  Thou  the  next !  yet  equal !     Thou,  by  whom 

That  blessing  was  convey'd  ;  far  more  !  was  bought; 

Ineffable  the  price !  by  whom  all  worlds 

Were  made  ;  and  one  redeem'd!  illustrious  Light  2265 

From  Light  illustrious  !     Thou,  whose  regal  power, 

Finite  in  time,  but  infinite  in  space, 

On  more  than  adamantine  basis  fix'd, 

O'er  more,  far  more,  than  diadems,  and  thrones, 

Inviolably  reigns  ;  the  dread  of  gods  !  2270 

And,  oh  !  the  friend  of  man  !  beneath  whose  foot, 

And  by  the  mandate  of  whose  awful  nod, 

All  regions,  revolutions,  fortunes,  fates, 

Of  high,  of  low,  of  mind,  and  matter,  roll 

Through  the  short  channels  of  expiring  time,  2275 

Or  shoreless  ocean  of  eternity, 

Calm  or  tempestuous  (as  thy  Spirit  breathes,) 

In  absolute  subjection ! — And,  0  Thou 

The  glorious  Third !  distinct,  not  separate  ! 

Beaming  from  both!  with  both  incorporate;  2280 

And  (strange  to  tell !)  incorporate  with  dust ! 

By  condescension,  as  thy  glory,  great, 

2252.  Well-policied  :  Well-regulated. 

2261.  That  lately,  &c.    Nights  VI.  and  VII. 

2262.  Thou :  The  Son  of  God,  the  Second  Person  in  the  holy  Trinity. 
2279.  1'he  gloricnts  Third  Person  in  the  Trinity — the  Holy  Spirit. 


504  THE    CONSOLATION. 

Enshrined  in  man !  of  human  hearts,  if  pure, 

Divine  inhabitant;  the  tie  divine 

Of  heaven  with  distant  earth  !  by  whom,  I  trust,  2285 

(If  not  inspired)  uncensured  this  address 

To  Thee,  to  Them — To  whom  ? — Mysterious  Power ; 

Reveal'd — yet  unreveal'd  !  darkness  in  light ! 

Number  in  unity  !  our  joy  !  our  dread  ! 

The  triple  bolt  that  lays  all  wrong  in  ruin!  22D0 

That  animates  all  right,  the  triple  sun  ! 

Sun  of  the  soul !  her  never-setting  sun ! 

Triune,  unutterable,  unconceived, 

Absconding,  yet  demonstrable,  Great  God ! 

Greater  than  greatest !  better  than  the  best!  2295 

Kinder  than  kindest !  with  soft  pity's  eye, 

Or  (stronger  still  to  speak  it)  with  thine  own, 

From  thy  bright  home,  from  that  high  firmament, 

Where  Thou,  from  all  eternity,  hast  dwelt ; 

Beyond  archangels'  unassisted  ken  ;  2300 

From  far  above  what  mortals  highest  call ; 

From  elevation's  pinnacle  ;  look  down, 

Through — what  ?  confounding  interval !  through  all, 

And  more  than  labouring  fancy  can  conceive  ; 

Through  radiant  ranks  of  essences  unknown  ;  2305 

Through  hierarchies  from  hierarchies  detach'd 

Round  various  banners  of  Omnipotence, 

With  endless  change  of  rapturous  duties  fired : 

Through  wondrous  beings'  interposing  swarms, 

All  clustering  at  the  call,  to  dwell  in  Thee  ;  2310 

2283.  Enshrined:  The  Scriptures  speak  of  man  as  the  temple  of  the 
Holy  Ghost.     He  is  said  to  dwell  in  the  humble  and  contrite  heart  of  man. 

2286.  If  not,  &c. :  Though  not,  &c. 

2288.   UnreveaPd :  Not  fully  comprehended. 

22S9.  Number  in  unity :  Three  in  one — three  Persons  (or  distinctions)  in 
one  Godhead. 

2294.  Absconding  :  Withdrawing  from  open  or  distinct  view. 

S.'WO    Ken  :   Reac'h  of  sight 


506 

Through  this  wide  waete  of  w  •  i  vast, 

All  sanded  o'er  with  suns  ;  suns  tum'd  to  i: 

Before  thy  fee"  -       )k  down — down — down, 

On  a  poor  breath::  ' 

Or,  lower, — an  immortal  in  h 

Has  crimes  fo:  s  too  ! 

Those  smaller  faul:  J  -  to  the  right ; 

Xor  let  me  close  these  eves,  which  neve    : 

May  see  the  sun  (though  nig" 

Xow  weighs  up  morn,)  unpitied,  and  unbless'd '.  -    - 

In  Thy  displeasure  dwel^- 

Pain,  our  aversion ;  pa::. 

And,  since  all  pain  is  terrible  to  m 

Though  tr  Thy  good  hour, 

Gen  my  bed,  2323 

clay-cold  bed  !  by  nature,  now,  so  near ; 
By  nature,  ner.: 

2312.  All  sanded  o'c  lerfnlly   sublime   conception. 

vrhich  are  globes  larger  than  we  can  conceive  of.  are  here  compared  to 

grains  of  sand,  to  indicate  their  insignificance  contrasted  with  the  majesty 

and  power  of  their  Great  Author,  and  in  the  next  place  to  denote  their 

countless  multir 

The  next  idea,  which  relates  to  their  luminous  splendour,  is  equal' 
lime.     It  is  lost,  and  turned  to  night,  when  brought  into  the  presence  of  the 
feeblest  beam  of  the  light  of  the  universe.     There  is  great  eloquence,  more- 
the  repetition  of  ytcn. 

231 G.    W  require  forgiveness,  because,  being 

imperfect,  thev  are  so  :  They  are  only  half  converts  to  th: 

half  conformed  to  the  I': 

2319.  Night's  descending  scale.  &c. :  Night  and  Day  are  here  non- 
represented as  the  scales  of  a  balance,  or  as  >:  ..?m ;  accordingly, 
as  one  descends  the  ot'^er  rise                    reverse.     The  author  for  th 
figure  was  probably  incebte.'. 

I 

Decline^  ■was  hasting  new  with  prone  career 
To  th'  ocean  ii'.es.  an  3  in  I  :  scale 

Of  Heav'n  thai  ;  roaa 

Par  ~,  853— &. 

2326.  By  nature:   According  to  the  common  rents. 


506  THE    CONSOLATION. 

Till  then,  be  this,  an  emblem  of  my  grave : 

Let  it  out-preach  the  preacher  ;  every  night 

Let  it  outcry  the  boy  at  Philip's  ear ;  2380 

That  tongue  of  death  !  that  herald  of  the  tomb  ! 

And  when  (the  shelter  of  thy  wing  implored) 

My  senses,  soothed,  shall  sink  in  soft  repose  ; 

O  sink  this  truth  still  deeper  in  my  soul, 

Suggested  by  my  pillow,  sign'd  by  fate,  2335 

First,  in  fate's  volume,  at  the  page  of  man — 

Man's  sickly  soul,  though  turrCd  and  toss'dfor  ever, 

From  side  to  side,  can  rest  on  nought  but  Thee  ; 

Here,  in  full  trust  ;  hereafter,  in  full  joy  ; 

On  Thee,  the  promised,  sure,  eternal  down  2340 

Of  spirits,  toil'd  in  travel  through  this  vale. 

Nor  of  that  pillow  shall  my  soul  despond  ; 

For — Love  almighty  !     Love  almighty !  (sing, 

Exult,  creation  !)     Love  almighty  reigns  ! 

That  death  of  death !  that  cordial  of  despair  !  2345 

And  loud  eternity's  triumphant  song  ! 

'  Of  whom,  no  more  : — For,  0  thou  Patron-God  ! 
Thou  God  and  mortal !  thence  more  God  to  man  J 
Man's  theme  eternal !  man's  eternal  theme ! 
Thou  canst  not  'scape  uninjured  from  our  praise.  2350 

Uninjured  from  our  praise  can  He  escape, 
Who,  disembosom'd  from  the  Father,  bows 
The  heaven  of  heavens,  to  kiss  the  distant  earth  1 
Breathes  out  in  agonies  a  sinless  soul ! 

Against  the  cross,  death's  iron  sceptre  breaks !  2355 

From  famish'd  ruin  plucks  her  human  prey  ! 

2328.  This :  Painful  disease  (2322). 

2330.  Philip,  king  of  Macedon,  being  flushed  with  his  great  military 
success,  and  in  danger  of  mistaking  himself  for  a  god,  employed  a  boy  to 
say  to  him  each  day,  "  Thou  art  a  man." 

2332.  Thy  whig :  The  wing  of  the  god  Sleep. 

2341.  ToiVd:  Fatigued. 

2317.  Pntion-Ofr! :  Jesus  Christ,  who  is  onr  advocate  and  intercessor. 


MIOHT    IX. 

Throws  wide  the  gates  celestial  to  his  foes  ! 

Their  gratitude,  for  such  a  boundless  debt, 

Deputes  their  suffering  brothers  to  receive  ! 

And,  if  deep  human  guilt  in  payment  fails;  23G0 

As  deeper  guilt,  prohibits  our  despair  ! 

Enjoins  it,  as  our  duty,  to  rejoice ! 

And,  (to  close  all)  omnipotently  kind, 

Takes  his  delights  among  the  sons  of  men.'  2364 

What  words  are  these ! — And  did  they  come  from  heaven  ? 
And  were  they  spoke  to  man  ?  to  guilty  man  \ 
What  are  all  mysteries  to  love  like  this  ! 
The  song  of  angels,  all  the  melodies 
Of  choral  gods,  are  wafted  in  the  sound ; 
Heal  and  exhilarate  the  broken  heart:  2370 

Though  plunged,  before,  in  horrors  dark  as  night : 
Rich  prelibation  of  consummate  joy ! 
Nor  wait  we  dissolution  to  be  bless'd. 

This  final  effort  of  the  moral  muse, 
How  justly  titled!     Nor  for  me  alone:  2375 

For  all  that  read ;  what  spirit  of  support, 
What  heights  of  consolation,  crown  my  song ! 

FAREWELL   TO    NIGHT. 

Then,  farewell  Night !     Of  darkness,  now,  no  more : 
Joy  breaks,  shines,  triumphs ;  'tis  eternal  day. 
Shall  that  which  rises  out  of  nought  complain  2380 

Of  a  few  evils,  paid  with  endless  joys  ? 
My  soul !  henceforth,  in  sweetest  union  join 
The  two  supports  of  human  happiness, 

235S-9.  Their  gratitude,  &c.  Deputes,  or  authorizes,  their  suffering  bro 
thers  (or  fellow  men)  to  receive  from  them  offices  of  kindness,  as  an  expres 
sion  of  their  gratitude  to  Him/or  sueh  a  boundless  debt.     Matt.  xxv.  40. 

2363.  See  Proverbs  viii.  31. 

2369.  Choral  gods :  Gods  singing  in  concert. 

2372.  Prelibation:  Foretaste. 

2375.   Titled:  "  The  Consolation." 


608  THE    CONSOLATION. 

Which  some,  erroneous,  think  can  never  meet ; 

True  taste  of  life,  and  constant  thought  of  death;  2  385 

The  thought  of  death,  sole  victor  of  its  dread  ! 

Hope,  be  thy  joy ;  and  probity,  thy  skill ; 

Thy  patron,  He,  whose  diadem  has  dropp'd 

Yon  gems  of  heaven  ;  eternity,  thy  prize  : 

And  leave  the  racers  of  the  world  their  own,  2 •'; ! 

Their  feather,  and  their  froth,  for  endless  toils : 

They  part  with  all  for  that  which  is  not  bread ; 

They  mortify,  they  starve,  on  wealth,  fame,  power  ; 

And  laugh  to  scorn  the  fools  that  aim  at  more. 

How  must  a  spirit,  late  escaped  from  earth,  2395 

Suppose  Philander's,  Lucia's,  or  Narciss 

The  truth  of  things  new  blazing  in  its  eye, 

Look  back,  astonish' d,  on  the  ways  of  men, 

Whose  lives'  whole  drift  is  to  forget  their  graves ! 

And  when  our  present  privilege  is  past,  2400 

To  scourge  us  with  due  sense  of  its  abuse, 

The  same  astonishment  will  seize  us  all. 

What  then  must  pain  us,  would  preserve  us  now. 

Lorenzo !  'tis  not  yet  too  late :  Lorenzo ! 

Seize  wisdom,  ere  'tis  torment  to  be  wise  ;  2405 

That  is,  seize  wisdom,  ere  she  seizes  thee, 

For  what,  my  small  philosopher !  is  hell  ? 

'Tis  nothing,  but  full  knowledge  of  the  truth, 

When  truth,  resisted  long,  is  sworn  our  foe, 

And  calls  eternity  to  do  her  right.  2410 

Thus,  darkness  aiding  intellectual  light, 
And  sacred  silence  whispering  truths  divine, 
And  truths  divine  converting  pain  to  peace, 
My  song  the  midnight  raven  has  outwing'd, 
And  shot,  ambitious  of  unbounded  scenes,  2415 

Beyond  the  flaming  limits  of  the  world, 
Her  gloomy  flight.     But  what  avails  the  flight 

2391.  Their  feather :  Their  paltry  badges  of  honor.     Their  froth:  Their 
empty  pleasures,  oi  their  p.witement  in  the  race. 

2392.  See  Isainh  .v.  2. 


NIGHT    IX.  609 

Of  fancy,  when  our  hearts  remain  below  * 

Virtue  abounds  in  flatterers,  and  foes  : 

'Tis  pride,  to  praise  her  ;  penance,  to  perform.  2420 

To  more  than  words,  to  more  than  worth  of  tongue, 

Lorenzo  !  rise,  at  this  auspicious  hour ; 

An  hour,  when  Heaven's  most  intimate  with  man ; 

When,  like  a  falling  star,  the  ray  divine 

Glides  swift  into  the  bosom  of  the  just ;  2425 

And  just  are  all,  determined  to  reclaim; 

Which  sets  that  title  high,  within  thy  reach. 

Awake,  then ;  thy  Philander  calls  :  awake  ! 

Thou,  who  shalt  wake,  when  the  creation  sleeps ; 

When,  like  a  taper,  all  these  suns  expire ;  2430 

When  Time,  like  him  of  Gaza  in  his  wrath, 

Plucking  the  pillars  that  support  the  world, 

In  Nature's  ample  ruins  lies  entomb' d  ; 

And  Midnight,  universal  Midnight !  reigns. 

2421.   Worth  of  tongue:  Excellence  of  speech. 

2431.  Him  of  Gaza:  Samson.  See  Judges  xvi.  29,  30. 


CONCLUDING  REMARKS. 

Comprehension  is  one  of  the  principal  features  of  Young's  genius.  He 
exhausts  worlds  in  a  few  pages,  and  leaves  after  writers  nothing  to  do  but 
wonder  and  imitate.  Think  of  that  amazing  descant  on  the  stars  in  the 
Ninth  Night !  The  argument  of  this  passage  is  not  conclusive,  as  we  have 
in  part  shown.  The  train  of  thought  is  often  lost,  like  a  sunbeam  amid 
thick  copsewood.  But  we  doubt  if  in  any  poem  ("Festus"'  not  excepted) 
there  can  be  found  for  so  many  successive  pages  (some  fifty  in  the  small 
edition  which  lies  before  us)  such  a  blaze  of  poetic  glory — such  a  deluge  of 
imagery — such  a  rush  and  tumult,  as  of  a  sun  dissolving  in  some  supernal 
storm,  and  in  a  moment  into  its  constituent  sparks — such  an  exuberant  and 
rejoicing  hour — such  an  exhauatlcss  quantity  of  thought,  which,  too,  while 
tempestuous  in  its  motion  as  flame,  is  firm  and  pointed  in  its  edges  as  mar- 
ble, and  the  very  faults  of  which  are  felt  necessary  to  prevent  your  saying,  "  It 
is  the  voice  of  a  God,  and  not  of  a  man."  This  eulo^ium  will  not  be  thought 
extravagant,  if,  first,  the  passage  be  read  immediately  after;  if,  secondly,  it 
be  remembered  that  ih.  □  Milton  (such  as  his  account  of  the  over- 


510  REMARKS. 

throw  of  the  augels  by  the  Lord)  and  in  "  Festus,"  which  alone  can  compete 
with  it  in  rapid  rushing  power,  are  far  shorter ;  and  if  it  be  remembered, 
thirdly,  that  almost  all  the  fine  things  which  have  been  said  since,  in  prose 
or  rhyme,  about  the  stars,  may  be  found,  in  essence,  and  often  in  actual  ex- 
pression, in  this  one  passionate  and  long  out-drawn  rapture  of  Young's. 

Here  is  this  poet's  surpassing  power — he  anticipates  ages ;  and  this  be- 
cause he  was  one  of  the  most  intensely  original  of  poets.  Traces  of  P<  pe, 
indeed,  there  are  in  his  diction  and  wit,  and  all  that  is  lowest  about  him,  but 
the  upper  stratum  of  his  mind  is  all  his  own.  He  has  looked  at  nature  with 
his  own  mind  and  eye.  This  was  the  more  wonderful,  as  he  lived  in  a  low 
and  imitative  age,  and  appeared  like  a  new  creation  amid  the  debris  of 
Boileau  and  Racine.  Not  only  so,  but  he  himself  was  often  a  laborious 
imitator  ;  and  nothing  could  have  saved  him  from  the  pains  and  penalties 
of  this  character,  save  a  most  rare  and  unavoidable  originality.  Young  may 
be  compared  (as  De  Quincey  compares  Coleridge)  to  one  of  those  million- 
aires who  pilfer  trifles  in  shops  from  sheer  disease.  Thus  it  was  that 
Coleridge  plagiarized  from  men  ineffably  inferior  to  himself,  and  that  Young 
sometimes  sought  to  clip  his  own  raven  and  star-dropt  wing  in  correspond- 
ence with  the  fashion  of  his  times. 

In  all  his  works  we  find  a  deep  and  personal  conviction  of  the  truth  of 
religion  ;  but  his  religion  bears  too  broadly  the  mark  of  the  century  when 
his  poems  were  written.  The  coarse  forms  of  infidelity  which  then  pre- 
vailed, are  somewhat  coarsely  contested.  He  dwells  far  too  much  upon 
the  horrible  deaths  of  skeptics.  He  lays  too  much  stres3  upon  the  logical 
arguments  for  immortality  and  the  Christian  faith.  The  Cros3,  to  be  sure,  is 
seen  in  the  poem,  but  not  so  attractively  or  so  often  as  we  might  have 
wished.  Hence,  on  the  whole,  the  book  is  a  gloomy  one,  and,  like  the 
"  Rambler,''  rather  shows  the  necessity  of  a  revelation,  and  the  misery  of 
human  nature  without  it,  than  the  peculiar  and  glorious  adaptations  of  the 
gospel  to  the  necessities  of  our  race.  Still,  the  general  cause  of  Christianity 
owes  much  to  the  powerful  genius  of  Edward  Young. 

His  "Night  Thoughts"  we  may  safely  pronounce  immortal  as  the  race. 
Other  thoughts,  indeed  may  and  must  the  Night  of  the  nineteenth  century 
be  suggesting  to  other  poetic  minds ;  and  we  have  formerly  asked,  "Who 
shall  sing  to  us  the  glories  of  the  heavens  of  Herschel,  or  of  the  steep- 
rising  sides  of  Rosse  ?  and  have  ventured  to  predict  that,  sooner  or  later, 
the  Milton  of  midnight  shall  arise.  Till  this  Avatar,  we  must  be  content  to 
walk  with  head  uncovered  in  that  solemn  temple  which  Young's  grand  and 
gloomy  genius  has  reared  on  such  solid  foundations,  adorned  with  such 
massive  ornaments,  and  lighted  up  with  such  a  "  dim  religious  light." — 

QlLFILLAN. 


INDEX. 


Pojrs. 

Introductory  Observations 8 

Like  and  Character  of  the  Poet 13 

A  Critical  Estimate  of  the  Works  of  Dr.  Young 51 

Contents  of  Night  I.,  on  Life,  Death,  and  Immortality 73 

The  Reign  of  Night 74 

Address  to  the  Author  of  Light 75 

My  departed  Hours 70 

Contrasts  in  man 77 

Night  proclaims  the  Soul  immortal 7S 

The  buried  live 78 

This  Life  only  the  commencement  of  being 79 

The  burial  of  celestial  hopes 80 

Waking  dreams  fatal  82 

Perpetuity  essential  to  bliss 82 

Domestic  griefs 81 

The  Past  contrasted  with  the  Present 85 

Evils  that  besiege  mankind 87 

Disease  and  Death  are  undiscrimiuating 88 

The  map  of  Earth  a  true  map  of  man 89 

Human  happiness  evanescent 89 

The  favors  of  Fortune  may  justly  cause  alarm 90 

Death  of  Philander 92 

Danger  of  Procrastination   94 

Delusive  promises  of  reformation 96 

All  men  are  thought  mortal  but  ourselves 97 

The  Nightingale  and  the  Poets 97 

Night  II.,  on  Time,  Death,  and  Friendship 101 

Avarice  of  Time  102 

Amusement,  the  universal  demand 104 

Lorenzo's  apology  for  a  life  of  amusement 105 

The  vast  importance  of  Time 106 

Prodigal  waste  of  Time 107 

Cause  and  cure  of  the  complaints  against  Time 109 

Time — its  nature,  origin,  and  speed 112 

The  Lorenzos  of  the  age 114 

The  operations  of  Conscience 116 

Time's  momentous  value 117 


512  INDEX. 

Pass 

Smiling  yesterdays 121 

Contempt  of  the  world 122 

Past  hours 123 

The  sun-dial  admonishes 1 24 

All  mistake  their  time  of  day 125 

Utility  of  rational  conversation 127 

Friendship,  the  means  of  happiness 130 

Friendship  not  to  he  bought  with  gold 132 

How  to  obtain  and  to  treat  a  friend 133 

Departed  friends 135 

Death-bed  of  the  just 136 

Night  III. — Narcissa 140 

Pleasures  of  self-communion 140 

Cynthia  preferred  to  Phcebus 141 

Death  of  Narcissa 144 

The  burial  of  Narcissa , 148 

Man,  to  man  the  sorest  ill 151 

The  vale  of  Death 154 

Harvest  gathered  from  the  grave 164 

The  thought  of  living  always  on  earth  revolting 156 

Life  valuable  as  a  means,  not  as  an  end 160 

Life  and  Death  compared 161 

Splendid  eulogium  on  Death 164 

tSTiGHT  IV. — The  Christian  Triumph 166 

Cure  for  the  fear  of  Death 166 

Disadvantages  of  living  too  long 167 

Address  to  the  aged 171 

Resignation  to  the  great  Arbiter  of  life  and  death 172 

The  Redeemer  on  the  cross 173 

The  Justice  and  the  Love  of  God 175 

A  God  all  mercy  is  a  God  unjust 176 

The  triumphant  Resurrection  and  Ascension 177 

Human  nature,  through  Christ,  triumphant 178 

The  wonders  of  pardoning  mercy 180 

Apostate  praise  called  back  to  God 181 

Adoration  and  praise  of  the  Creator 1S2 

The  praise  of  Redemption  more  appropriate  to  man  than  to 

t  angels 184 

The  grandeur  of  human  nature 186 

Angels  and  men  compared 189 

Religion's  all 190 

Devout  Address  to  the  Redeemer  , 191 

Lukewarm  devotion,  undevout 193 

Longing  for  Death 195 

The  touch  of  the  Cross 195 


INDEX.  513 

r.i:?p. 

The  Second  Advent 196 

The  Christian's  faith  is  rational 1<.i7 

False  pretensions  of  philosophic  infidelity 199 

The  voice  of  Conscience  must  be  heard 201 

Night  V. — The  Relapse 203 

Pleasure  and  Pride,  of  opposite  tendencies 204 

Wit  strives  to  reconcile  them 204 

Serious  character  of  the  poem 207 

Source  of  the  poet's  inspiration 2o3 

The  advantages  of  Night  over  those  of  Day 209 

Fluctuations  in  human  feeling 213 

Proficiency  made  in  the  school  of  grief 21-4 

The  importance  of  our  end  surveyed 216 

Description  of  Truth 2 1 7 

How  worldly  differs  from  Divine  wisdom 218 

Death,  ever  an  unexpected  guest 220 

Britain  infamous  for  self-murders 222 

The  solemn  death-scene 224 

The  philosophy  of  tears — their  cause 225 

False  and  true  grief 229 

Death  is  placed  at  a  distance 230 

Absurd  longevity 231 

The  thought  of  death  useful 233 

Needful  and  needless  knowledge 235 

Narcissa's  gayety 236 

The  forms  that  death  assumes 238 

The  peculiar  haunts  of  death 240 

Death's  uncertainty  as  to  time 241 

Fortune  a  bright  mark  for  death 24J 

Happiness,  in  contentment ;  not  in  fortune 24' 

The  base  idolatry  of  fortune 24* 

Lysander  and  Aspasia.     The  disappointed  nuptials 24f 

Night  VI. — The  Infidel  Reclaimed.     PaetT 25 

The  nature  of  Immortality 25/" 

An  honest  pride 2i>i 

The  scenes  and  occupations  of  immortality 251, 

The  chase  of  a  shadow — worldly  good 251 

True  ambition 26C 

Neither  talents  nor  station  constitute  greatness 261 

True  wealth,  in  the  intellectual  and  moral  powers 271 

High-built  abundance,  of  what  use  ? 27? 

Immortality  defined  and  illustrated 27o 

Proofs  of  immortality 2 7S 

Wonders  of  ht.man  art,  genius,  and  power 283 

Bp.  Butler's  argument,  from  analogy,  for  a  future  state 288 


514  INDEX. 

Night  VII. — The  second  Part  ok  the  Infidel  Reclaimed 294 

Argument  for  immortality  founded  on  man's  discontent 296 

Argument  from  our  various  susceptibilities  and  powers 297 

Argument  from  the  gradual  and  imperfect  growth  of  Reason,  298 

Argument  from  human  Hopes 299 

Argument  from  the  nature  and  rewards  of  Virtue 300 

Argument  from  Knowledge  and  Love 308 

Argument  from  the  Order  of  Creation 309 

Argument  from  Ambition 311 

Argument  from  the  Moral  Sense 315 

Argument  from  Avarice 317 

Preceding  arguments  summed  up 318 

The  grandeur  and  true  purpose  of  the  Passions 319 

The  stoic's  disbelief  of  immortality  considered 322 

Endless  questions  unresolvable  if  man  is  not  immortal 322 

The  aDguish  and  complaints  of  a  good  man  in  view  of  Anni- 
hilation    324 

The  absurdities  of  the  scheme  of  Annihilation 325 

The  horrors  of  Annihilation 329 

The  scheme  of  Annihilation  a  wicked  invention 332 

An  all-preserving  contrasted  with  an  annihilating  God 334 

The  importance  of  a  soul  immortal 336 

Difficulties  of  Infidelity 341 

Infamy  of  infidelity  as  to  a  future  life 342 

The  cause  of  Infidelity 344 

The  character  of  an  infidel  state 344 

True  free-thinking  defined 345 

Two  kinds  of  life  and  of  death 348 

Infidelity  betrays  guilt  and  hypocrisy 350 

A  reformed  life  renders  faith  easy 351 

Vice  alone  recommends  the  scheme  of  Annihilation 352 

Immortality  marvellous,  but  not  therefore  incredible 354 

Comparative  influence  of  the  present  and  the  future 355 

The  power  of  Hope,  and  its  value 355 

Night  VIII. — Virtue's  Apology 357 

This  world  compared  with  the  next 359 

The  gay  and  the  busy  described 360 

The  proud,  the  sensual,  and  the  grave 360 

The  world's  history 361 

A  just  estimate  of  this  world  362 

The  voyage  of  life 362 

The  several  stages  of  life,  in  the  history  of  Florello 366 

The  Machiavellian  system 869 

Virtue  has  her  difficulties  and  sufferings 372 

Pleasure  and  glory  not  the  chief  good  of  man 373 

In  what  true  greatness  does  not  consist 374 


IXDEX.  515 

Page. 

Iii  what  true  greatness  does  consist 376 

Charms  of  Pleasure,  for  all  classes 379 

The  nature,  purpose,  and  parentage  of  Pleasure 3S3 

Piety  and  Virtue  compared — their  pleasures 386 

Mirth  and  Laughter 38S 

Substantial  joys  the  product  of  exertion  and  vigilance Si   I 

What  it  is  to  follow  Nature 895 

Know  thyself 393 

Vice  a  mistaken,  Virtue  a  wise,  self-love 395 

The  happy  man t; '. » "7 

The  guilt  and  follies  of  Imagination 399 

What  deserves  the  name  of  pleasure 401 

The  man  who  lives  as  an  immortal  contrasted  with  the  world- 
ling    403 

The  undaunted  breast 405 

The  Christian  follows  Nature 406 

The  man  of  the  world  disdains  the  Christian 40S 

Wisdom  and  wit  distinguished 409 

A  warning  against  the  Siren's  song 410 

The.  pyramid  of  happiness , 411 

The  world's  mirth 412 

The  Christian's  joy 413 

The  difference  between  a  wise  man  and  a  fool 414 

Night  IX. — The  Consolation 419 

The  universal  mortality  of  man 421 

The  world  a  grave 422 

Empires  die 423 

The  mortality  of  the  Deluge 424 

The  last  scene  of  nature 425 

The  Last  Day  should  be  pondered  by  man 428 

The  reign  of  Time  ended 429 

The  reign  of  Eternity  begun.     The  final  sentence 430 

The  grand  and  awful  events  which  follow  the  last  sentence. .  431 

Physical  evils  designed  for  our  moral  good 433 

Existence  an  inestimable  blessing 434 

The  severities  of  God's  government  vindicated 435 

Review  of  the  poem 437 

An  Address  to  Night 4S9 

The  study  of  creation  important 439 

The  vastness  of  creation 440 

Lessons  of  the  stars 442 

Feelings  arising  upon  a  view  of  the  nocturnal  heavens 445 

Devotion  the  daughter  of  Astronomy 446 

The  existence  and  grandeur  of  the  Deity 447 

The  stars  tell  of  angelic  beings 449 

Nature  contrasted  with  Art 450 


516 


Pnee. 

The  abuse  of  the  starry  sky 453 

The  ancient  sages 454 

The  doctrine  of  the  ancient  philosophers 456 

The  soul  made  to  walk  the  stars 457 

A  true  Astrology  -158 

The  mathematical  glories  of  the  skies 459 

The  ■wonderful  order  of  the  heavenly  bodies 400 

The  stars  proclaim  man's  immortality 4G3 

Lessons  from  the  Moon 464 

The  field  of  celestial  contemplation  boundless 465 

Miracles  compared 466 

Astronomical  inquiries 467 

A  prayer  to  the  stars,  and  to  their  great  Author 46S 

The  universe  a  temple  of  devotion 469 

Extended  views  enlarge  the  mind 470 

An  appeal  to  the  Skeptic 471 

God  visible  in  creation 472 

Arguments  for  the  existence  of  God 473 

Grand  conceptions  of  the  Power  of  the  Creator 476 

The  dominions  of  the  Sun 479 

The  first  volume  of  the  Deity 480 

Where  is  the  Creator's  Throne  ?    481 

A  journey  through  the  Heavens 483 

The  inhabitants  of  other  worlds  interrogated 485 

The  question  resumed — where  is  the  Creator's  Throne 488 

The  religious  devotion  of  other  worlds 489 

Review  of  the  nocturnal  landscape 490 

Address  to  the  undevout 493 

What  the  grandeur  of  the  universe  teaches 494 

The  voice  of  Nature 495 

The  folly  of  vice  and  irreligion 496 

Solemn  night-born  adjuration 497 

Au  Address  to  the  Deity 501 

Farewell  to  Night 507 

Concluding  Remarks  by  Gilfillan 509-10 


K    S.   BARNES  &  COMPANY  S  PUBLICATIONS. 
Page's  Theory  and  Practice  cf  Teaching. 


THEORY  AND  PRACTICE  OF  TEACHING? 


MOTIVES    OF    GOOD    SCHOOL-KEEPING. 
BY  DAVID  PAGE,  A.M., 

IATB  PRINCIPAL  OF  THE  6TATE  NORMAL  SCHOOL,  NEW  YORK. 


"1  received  a  few  days  since  your  'Theory  and  Practice,  &c.,'  and  a  capital  t heart 
md  capita!  practice  it  is.  I  have  read  it  with  unmingled  delight  Even  if  I  should 
look  through  a  critic's  microscope,  I  should  hardly  find  a  single  sentiment  to  dissent 
from,  and  certainly  not  one  to  condemn.  The  chapters  on  Prizes  and  on  Corporal 
Punishment  are  truly  admirable.  Tiny  will  exert  a  most  salutary  influence.  So  jf  tho 
view=  tparsim  on  moral  and  religious  instruction,  which  you  so  earnestly  and  feelingly 
insist  upon,  and  yet  within  true  Protestant  limits.  It  is  a  grand  book,  and  1  thank 
Heaven  that  yoi"  iiavk  written  it." — Hon.  Horace  Mann,  Secretary  of  the  Hoard  of 
Education  in  Massachusetts. 


u  Were  it  our  business  to  examine  teachers,  we  would  never  dismiss  a  candidata 
without  naming  this  book.  <  tther  things  being  equal,  we  would  greatly  prefer  a  teacher 
who  has  read  it  and  speaks  of  it  with  enthusiasm.  In  one  indifferent  to  such  a  work, 
we  should  certainly  have  little  confidence,  however  he  might  appear  in  other  respects, 
Would  that  every  teacher  employed  in  Vermont  this  winter  had  'he  spirit  of  this  bo<»k 
in  his  bosom,  its  lessons  impressed  upon  his  heart!'' — Vermont  Lkreuicle. 


"1  am  pleased  with  and  commend  this  work  to  the  attention  of  school  teachers,  and 
thos^  who  intend  to  embrace  that  most  estimable  profession,  for  light  and  instruction 
to  guide  and  govern  them  in  the  discharge  of  their  delicate  and  important  duties." — 
JV.  S.  Benton,  Superintendent  of  Common  Schools,  State  of  JVew  York. 


Hon.  S.  Young  says,  "It  is  altogether  the  best  book  on  this  subject  1  have  evei 
icen." 


President  JfortA,  of  Hamilton  College,  says,  "  I  have  read  it  with  all  that  absorbinfj 
•elf-denying  interest,  which  in  my  younger  "days  was  reserved  for  fiction  and  poetry.  I 
am  delighted  with  the  book." 


Hon.  Marcus  S.  Reynolds  says,  "  It  will  do  great  good  by  showing  the  Teacher  what 
itiouid  be  his  qualifications,  and  what  may  justly  be  required  and  expected  of  him." 


"I  wish  you  would  send  an  agent  through  the  several  towns  of  this  State  with 
Pages  'Theory  and  Practice  of  Teaching,'  or  take  some  other  way  of  bringing  this 
raluabie  bookto  the  notice  of  every  family  and  of  even-  teacher.  I  should  be  rejoiced 
to  see  the  principles  which  it  presents  as  to  the  motives  and  methods  of  good  school- 
keeping  carried  ut  in  every  school-room :  and  as  nearly  as  possible,  in  the  style  in 
wbnh  Mr.  Page  illustrates  them  in  his  own  practice,  as  the  devoted  and  accomplished 
Principal  of  your  State  Normal  School." — Henry  Barnard,  Superintendent  of  Common 
Schools  for  the  State  of  Rhode  Island. 

"The  'Theory  and  Practice  of  Teaching,'  by  D.  P.  Pnge,  is  one  of  the  best  books  of 
the  kind  1  have  ever  met  with.  In  it  the  theory  and  practice  of  the  teacher's  duties 
sre  clearly  explained  and  happily  combined.  The  style  is  easy  and  familiar,  and  the 
saggeationa  it  contains  are  plain,  practical,  and  to  the  point.  To  teachers  especially  't 
will  furnish  very  important  aid  in  discharging  the  duties  of  jheir  high  and  responsible 
proKsseton." — Roger  S.  Howard,  Sunerintendent  of  Ccmnum  Schools,  Orars  »  Oo„  KL 


A.  S.    BARNES  AND  COMPANY'S  PUBLICATIONS. 
No r t h e n d ' a    Te acker    and   P arent . 


A  NEW  VOLUME  FOR  THE  TEACHER  S  LIBRARY. 

THE  TEACHER  AND  THE  PARENT: 

A.  Treatise  upon  Common-School  Education,  containing  Practical  Sug 
gestions  to  Teachers  and  Parents.  By  Charles  Kortijend,  A.  M, 
late,  and  for  many  years,  Principal  of  the  Epes  School,  SaJem.  Now 
Superintendent  of  Public  Schools,  Danvers,  Mass. 


*  Wc  may  anticipate  for  this  work  a  wide  circulation,  among  teachers  and  friend9 
of  education.  The  extensive  and  high  reputation  of  its  author,  indeed,  will  bespeak 
for  it  more  than  pen  of  ours  can  do.  It  is  a  work  of  about  three  hundred  and 
twenty  pages,  in  good  size  type,  and  presents  a  very  pleasant  appearance  to  the  eye, 
as  well  as  the  work  noticed  on  the  preceding  page,  both  of  which,  for  their  neat 
appearance,  do  great  credit  to  the  enterprising  publishers. 

Mr.  Northend's  book  will  prove  interesting  to  all,  and  of  great  benefit  to  teach- 
ers, especially  as  a  chart  for  those  just  commencing  to  engage  in  the  profession. 
As  a  vade  mecum,  it  will  prove  a  very  pleasant  companion,  for  its  pages  are  filled 
with  the  results  of  a  large  experience  presented  in  a  very  pleasing  form.  "We  are 
glad  to  find  that  the  author,  in  furnishing  to  teachers  so  useful  a  work,  has  not 
neglected  the  suaviter  in  modo,  and  has  here  and  there  thrown  in  a  pleasant  anec- 
dote, which  will  enliven  its  character,  and  make  it  all  the  more  acceptable.  We 
shall  have  frequent  occasion  to  refer  to  it  hereafter.  In  closing  this  short  notice, 
we  would  assure  our  readers  that  a  perusal  of  the  work  will  more  than  realize  to 
them  the  truth  of  all  we  have  attempted  to  say  in  its  favor.  Appended  to  the 
volume  will  be  found  a  catalogue  of  educational  works  suitable  for  the  teacher's 
library." — Massachusetts  Teacher. 

""We  wish  that  this  interesting  and  readable  volume  may  find  a  place  in  every 
family,  and  we  are  certain  that  it  ought  to  be  on  the  shelf  of  every  school  library  in 
the  land."— Salem  Gazette. 

"It  presents  a  multitude  of  practical  hints,  which  cannot  fail  to  do  good  servlco  In 
enlightening  all  laborers  in  the  field  of  education." — Boston  Transcript. 

"  We  unhesitatingly  commend  this  volume  of  sound,  practical,  common  sense  sug- 
gestions. Every  school  teacher  should  carefully  examine  its  pages,  and  he  will  not 
fail — be  cannot  help  receiving — invaluable  aid  therefrom." — Boston  Atlas. 

"We  have  examined  this  work  with  care,  and  cheerfully  commend  it  to  parent* 
Mid  teachers.  It  abounds  in  judicious  advice  and  sound  reasoning,  and  cannot  fail  to 
impart  ideas  in  the  education  of  children  which  may  be  acted  upon  with  the  moat 
beneficial  results." — Boston  Mercantile  Journal. 

"This  is  an  intelligible,  practical,  and  most  excellent  treatise.  The  book  la 
•nlivened  with  numerous  anecdotes  which  serve  to  clinch  the  good  advice  given,  m 
well  as  to  keep  awake  the  attention  of  the  advised." — Boston  Traveller. 

u  This  is  a  sterling  work  of  great  value.  It  should  be  in  every  family.  AU  t**cb 
m  need  just  such  a  work." — Boston  Olive  Branch. 


A.   8.    BARNE>   A-   ."'OMF'A  XV'5   PUBLICATIONS. 

Mansfield    on    American    Education. 

AMERICAN      EDUCATION! 

ITS    PRINCIPLES    AND    ELEMENTS. 
DEDICATED    TO    THE    TEACHERS    OF    THE    UNITED    ST/TJ'. 

BY  EDWASD  D.  MANSFIELD, 
AutJwr  of" Political  Grammar"  etc. 

This  work  is  suggestive  of  principles,  and  not  intended  to  point  ov%  t 
course  of  studies.  Its  aim  is  to  excite  attention  to  what  should  lie  the 
elements  of  an  American  education  ;  or,  in  other  words,  what  are  the 
ideas  connected  with  a  republican  and  Christian  education  in  this  period 
of  rapid  development. 

"The  author  could  not  have  applied  his  pen  to  the  production  of  a  book  upon  a 
subject  of  more  importance  than  tin-  one  he  has  chosen.  We  have  had  occasion  to 
notice  one  or  two  new  works  on  education  recently,  whish  indicate  that  the  attention 
of  authors  is  being  directed  toward  that  subject  We  trust  that  those  who  occupy  the 
proud  position  of  teachers  of  American  youth  will  find  much  in  these  works,  which  are 
interchange  ol  opinion,  to  a?<is;  them  in  the  discharge  of  their  responsible  duties. 

"The  author  of  the  work  before  us  does  nol  point  out  an)  particular  course  of  studies 
to  be  pursued,  bat  confines  himself  to  the  consideration  of  the  principles  which  should 
govern  teachers.  His  views  upon  the  elements  of  an  American  education,  and  its 
bearings  upon  o.ir  institutions,  are  sound,  and  worthy  the  attention  of  those  to  whom 
they  ar.-  particularly  addressed.  We  commend  the  work  to  teachers." — Rochester 
Daily  Advertiser. 

"We  have  examined  it.  with  some  care,  and  are  delighted  with  it.  It  discusses  the 
whole  subject  of  American  education,  and  presents  views  at  once  enlarged  and  compro 
bensive;  it.  in  fact,  covers  the  whole  ground.  It  is  high-toned  in  its  moral  ana 
religious  bearing,  and  points  out  to  the  student  the  way  in  which  to  be  a  man.  I) 
should  l>e  in  every  public  and  private  library  in  the  country." — Jackson  Patriot. 


"  It  is  an  elevated,  dignified  work  of  a  philosopher,  who  has  written  a  book  on  tho 
subject  of  education,  which  is  an  acquisition  of  great  value  to  all  classes  of  our 
countrymen,  tt  can  be  read  with  interest  and  profit,  by  the  old  and  young,  the 
educated  and  unlearned.  We  hail  it  in  this  era  of  superficial  and  ephemeral  litera- 
ture, as  the  precursor  of  a  better  future.  It  discusses  a  momentous  subject;  bringing 
lo  hear,  in  its  examination,  the  deep  and  labored  thought  of  a  comprehensive  mind. 
We  hope  its  sentiments  may  be  diffused  as  freely  and  as  widely  throughout  our  laud 
he  the  air  v,  e  breathe." — Kalamazoo  Gazette. 

'•  important  and  comprehensive  as  is  the  title  of  this  work,  we  assure  our  readers  it 
16  IKl  misnomer.  A  wide  gap  in  the  bulwark  of  this  age  and  this  country  is  greatly 
.assened  by  this  excellent  book.  In  the  first  place,  the  views  of  the  author  on  educa- 
tion, irrespective  of  time  and  place,  are  of  the  highest  order,  contrasting  strongly  with 
Ihe  groveling,  time-seeking  views  so  plausible  and  so  popular  at  the  present  day. 
A  leading  purpose  of  (he  author  is.  as  he  says  in  the  preface,  'to  turn  the  thoughts  ol 
•  i  in  the  direction  of  youth  to  ihe  fact,  that  it  is  the  entire  soul,  in  all  its 
faculties,  which  needs  education.' 

"The  view*  of  the  author  are  eminently  philosophical,  and  he  does  not  pretend  to 
enter  into  the  details  of  teaching:  but  his  is  a  practical  philosophy,  having  lo  do  with 
fifing,  abiding  truths,  and  does  not  sneer  at  utility,  though  it  demands  a  utility  that 
lake*  hold  of  the  spiritual  part  of  man,  and  reaches  into  his  immortality." — HoldetCs 


A.   8,   BARNES   A   COMPANY'S  PUBLICATIONS. 
D e  To cgucville's   American   Institutions. 

AMERICAN     INSTITUTIONS    AND    THEIR    INFLUENCE. 

BY  ALEXIS  DE  TOCQUEVILLE. 
WITH  NOTES,  BY  HON.  JOHN  C.  SPENCER. 1  vol.  8vo. 

This  book  is  the  first  part  of  De  Tocqueville's  larger  work,  on  the  Repitlio  a 
America,  and  is  one  of  the  most  valuable  treatises  on  American  politics  that  has  e?« 
been  issued,  and  should  be  in  every  library  in  the  land.  Tho  views  of  a  libsral- 
cainded  and  enlightened  European  statesman  upon  the  working  of  our  country's  social 
Bod  political  establishments,  are  worthy  of  attentive  perusal  at  all  times;  those  of  a  mas 
like  De  Tocqueville  have  a  higher  intrinsic  value,  from  the  fact  of  his  residence  among 
the  people  he  describes,  and  his  after  position  as  a  part  of  the  republican  government 
Of  France.  The  work  is  enriched  likewise  with  a  preface,  and  carefully  prepared  notea, 
by  a  well-known  American  statesman  anil  late  Secretary  of  the  Navy.  The  book  is  on» 
of  great  weight  and  interest,  and  is  admirably  adapted  for  the  district  and  school  library 
as  well  as  that  of  the  private  student.  It  traces  the  origin  of  the  Anglo-American* 
treats  of  their  social  condition,  its  essential  democracy  and  political  consequences,  th* 
sovereignty  of  the  people,  etc.  It  also  embraces  the  author's  views  on  the  America! 
system  of  townships,  counties,  &c. ;  federal  and  state  powers  ;  the  judiciary  ;  the  cod 
Btitution  ;  parties;  the  press;  American  society  ;  power  of  the  majority,  its  tyrannj 
and  the  causes  which  mitigate  it ;  trial  by  jury;  religion;  the  three  races;  the  arista 
cratic  party;  causes  of  American  commercial  prosperity,  etc.,  etc.  The  work  is  at 
epitome  of  the  entire  political  and  social  condition  of  the  United  States. 

"M.  De  Tocqueville  was  the  first  foreign  author  who  comprehended  the  genius  o> 
our  institutions,  and  who  made  intelligible  to  Europeans  the  complicated  machinery 
wheel  within  wheel,  of  the  state  and  federal  governments.  !!is  'Democracy  ir. 
America'  is  acknowledged  to  be  the  most  profound  and  philosophical  work  vipot 
modern  republicanism  that  has  yet  appeared.  It  is  characterized  by  a  rare  union  o> 
discernment,  reflection,  and  candor;  and  though  occasionally  tinged  with  the  authorV 
peculiarities  of  education  and  faith,  it  may  be  accepted  as  in  the  main  a  just  and  im 
partial  criticism  upon  the  social  and  political  features  oi  the  United  States.  The  pub 
Ushers  have  now  sought  to  adapt  it  a3  a  text-book  for  higher  seminaries  of  leiuuin^ 
For  tins  purpose  they  have  published  the  first  volume  as  an  independent  work,  tha 
avoiding  the  author's  speculations  upon  our  social  habits  and  religious  condition.  Thit 
volume,  however,  is  unmutilated — the  author  is  left  throughout  to  speak  for  himself;  bus 
where  at  any  point  he  had  misapprehended  our  system,  the  delect  is  supplied  by  note? 
or  paragraphs  in  brackets  from  the  pen  of  one  most  thoroughly  versed  in  the  history 
the  legislation,  the  administration,  and  the  jurisprudence  of  our  country.  This  work 
will  supply  a  felt  deficiency  in  the  educational  apparatus  of  our  higher  schools.  Even 
man  who  pretends  to  a  good,  and  much  more  to  a  liberal  education,  should  master  tlu 
principles  and  philosophy  of  the  institutions  of  his  country.  In  the  hands  of  a  judicious 
teacher,  this  volume  will  be  an  admirable  text-book." — The  Independent. 

"'  Having  had  the  honor  of  a  personal  acquaintance  with  M.De  Tocqueville  while  h* 
was  in  this  country;  having  discussed  with  him  many  of  the  topics  treated  of  in  thit 
book  ;  having  entered  deeply  into  the  feelings  and  sentiments  which  guided  and  im 
pelted  him  in  his  task,  atid  having  formed  a  high  admiration  of  his  character  and  of 
this  production,  the  editor  felt  under  some  obligation  to  aid  in  procuring  for  one  whoa 
he  ventures  to  call  his  friend,  a  hearing  from  those  who  were  the  objects  of  his  ob- 
servations.' The  notes  of  Mr.  Spencer  will  be  found  Ur  elucidate  occasional  miscco- 
captions  of  the  translator.  It  is  a  most  judicious  text-book,  and  ought  to  be  rea* 
carefully  by  all  who  wish  to  know  this  country,  and  to  trace  its  power,  position,  ant 
ultimate  destiny  from  the  true  source  of  philosophic  government,  Republicanism—the 
people.  De  Tocqueville,  believing  the  destinies  of  civilization  to  depend  on  the  power 
of  the  people  and  on  the  principle  which  so  grandly  founded  an  exponent  on  this  co» 
tinenl,  analyzes  with  jealous  care  and  peculiar  critical  acumen  the  tendencies  of  th* 
new  Democracy,  and  candidly  gives  his  approval  of  the  new-born  giant,  or  point* 
out  and  warns  him  of  dangers  which  his  faithful  and  independent  philosophy  foresees. 
We  believe  the  perusal  of  his  observations  will  have  the  effect  of  enhancing  still  mort 
to  >-is  American  readers  the  structure  of  their  government,  by  the  clear  and  profomui 
»t-'e  in  which  he  presents  it." — Jiuurican.  lUziea.   • 


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